


Like the Call of the Prophets

by bangyababy, cylsus



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Action/Adventure, Angst with a Happy Ending, Blood, Canon Divergence - Post-Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows, Community: harrydracobang, Consent Issues, Curse Breaker Draco Malfoy, Cursed Harry Potter, Dom/sub, Drowning, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Fae & Fairies, Harry/Draco Big Bang 2018, Horror, Korean Draco Malfoy, M/M, Mildly Dubious Consent, Miscarriage mention, Nightmares, Psychological Drama, Recovery, Religious Imagery & Symbolism, Some Humor, Supernatural Elements, a quest, mild PTSD
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-21
Updated: 2018-09-21
Packaged: 2019-06-30 01:21:33
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 12
Words: 53,943
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15741240
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bangyababy/pseuds/bangyababy, https://archiveofourown.org/users/cylsus/pseuds/cylsus
Summary: After the final battle, Harry breaks the Elder Wand and a curse is placed upon him. The curse remains dormant until years later when Harry accidentally touches an Elder Tree. Harry has been slowly changing into something out of a nightmare, and the shadow that has been stalking him is growing impatient. Harry's running out of time, and the only person left that can help him is Draco Malfoy.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> **Author's Notes:**  
>  There are so many people I need to thank. First to ea-stofnar who prompted this for DTH and kindly let me use the prompt as well. Then to Cylsus, Maesterchill, and Fantom-ftnoise who made this fic actually readable, and for their amazingly detailed alpha/beta readings. Next, to the mods for putting so much work into this fest! I also have to thank Agentmoppet, Hailun, and rm-knj for listening to whine about this for the last eight months. And then, of course, a double thanks to Cylsus for the amazing art! 
> 
> This is my first long fic and I tried out a lot of new things here. It has been a stressful journey, but I hope you enjoy the ride!
> 
> (Chapters with potentially triggering content will be marked)
> 
> **Artist's Notes:**  
>  Thank you to bangyababy for writing an absolutely gorgeous fic--there were so many amazingly vivid scenes it was hard to choose which to illustrate! As always, my enormous gratitude to the mods for putting on this fest, and in particular Gracerene for her eternal patience and good will! I've always wanted to participated in a big bang and I'm happy I finally got a chance. I hope you all enjoy!

Wherever Harry was, it was dark. So dark that Harry thought there had never been light in this place to begin with. The dimness seemed to rest in the cold stone walls and drip down from the ceiling like slow melting icicles. Even the air around him felt like it was dark, like he could breathe it in. He imagined it entering his blood stream, overtaking the cells there. He saw them mutating black and spreading like cancer.

Harry knew he needed to get out of there, but he couldn’t see how. The only light he had was his wand, and that did a laughable job at best. But, he knew he’d been here before, and he’d gotten out before, so he could get out again.

But then, why should he leave?

The problem was every time he ended up here it became a little harder to leave. He became a little more comfortable in the dark, the passage out seemed longer than last time, and Harry had less and less reason to justify his leaving.

It wasn’t as if the place was completely dreadful, not really, not anymore. It was dark and cold and wet, but that wasn’t anything Harry wasn’t used to. He could see himself melding into this place, his bones fading into the walls. In a place like this he could just be. It wouldn’t matter if he was important. It wouldn’t matter if he had a purpose. It wouldn’t matter if he didn’t belong. 

But he  _ didn’t _ belong here, he told himself. He had to leave.

_ They don’t need you anymore, Harry _ . A voice echoed, but whether it was in his head or not, Harry couldn’t tell. It didn’t matter, because he could hear it all the same.

_ You’re of no use to them.  _ Harry shut his eyes in a futile attempt to block the voice out. Somehow, the back of his eyelids seemed brighter than the hallway he was standing in.

_ You can be useful here. _

Harry opened his eyes and it almost felt as if it was lighter in the hallway. “No,” Harry said, but whether it was to the voice or himself, he couldn’t tell. But that didn't matter either, because still he had said it all the same.

There was laughing, soft at first and then louder and louder, and it spurred Harry into a run. He ran, and the laughter followed him, and it was so loud his ears were ringing in pain. He ran as fast as he could with that laughter in his ears, and the darkness moving around him. It brushed across his face like razor-tipped feathers and made him stumble. His chest hurt and his ears hurt and that fucking laughter.

Why wouldn’t it stop? Where did this hallway end? How far would he have to go?

An answer came with a shriek.

_ Far, far, far. _

Harry kept running, but he couldn’t tell if he was even moving. He legs were, but it felt like the ground was moving on a circuit.

_ Farther, farther, farther. _

Harry screamed as it laughed. He pumped his legs as fast as they would go, his lungs burning, making him light headed for lack of air. Spots came around his vision, but everything was becoming lighter. He was sure he would pass out soon, and perhaps then he would wake up. He ran faster.

It wasn’t his mind playing tricks on him, it was getting lighter in the tunnel. He could see a silhouette of the walls now, rounded and jagged in no discernible pattern. Something told him not to look at them. He closed his eyes and the laughing became inconceivably louder. Harry had to get out of here, he had to—

Harry’s eyes opened slowly.

He reached up and rubbed his eyes with a sigh. Without moving, he scanned the room, looking for any sign that he was still asleep. The only thing worse than having a nightmare was waking from one right into another. 

He took stock of his room and searched for any inconsistencies. The room was small and white, and with the lights on it felt almost clinical. The unnatural brightness of it hurt Harry’s eyes, but he hardly noticed it anymore.

He didn’t like to be in dark spaces anymore. That was why he had chosen a small flat where everything was in one room. The less space there was, the less chance there could be something hiding in it. He had gone so far as to take all the doors off their hinges.

He found nothing amiss in the room and decided he was in fact awake. He reached out for his glasses on the floor beside his mattress and slipped them on. His head turned on instinct to look at the clock, before remembering it was no longer there. No reflections, he thought. He picked up his wand and cast a  _ Tempus _ , finding it to be well into the middle of the night. Knowing he wouldn’t get back to sleep, he threw the covers off.

Harry got up from his bed and made his way over to the several thick pieces of stacked plywood that served as his desk. He picked up his latest tome and sat down cross-legged on the cushion in front of it and began to read. He hadn’t read more than a few pages when he saw it. The only thing that stopped Harry from reacting was far too much experience with being prey. He controlled his breathing as he watched it out of the corner of his eye. 

Without warning, Harry turned his head toward the shadow in the corner and bared his teeth with a snarl. The shadow dispersed, a cloud moving out of the way of the sun, and Harry turned back to his book.

“Not today,” he muttered to himself. Harry couldn’t concentrate on his book after the shadow left. He knew the dream meant something else had changed, but he was too scared to find out what. He had been hoping reading would distract him enough that he could hold off for at least a few days.

But curiosity got the better of him, so he set his book down and took a steadying breath. There was but one mirror in his flat, and it was kept in pieces, face down in an open box. When Harry needed to look at himself he would  _ Reparo _ the pieces back into one. He did this all with his eyes closed.

“You’re Harry James Potter,” he told himself, “Son of Lily and James Potter. Your best friends are Ron Weasley and Hermione Granger. You make brooms. You love treacle tart and spy novels. You’re a Gryffindor. You defeated Voldemort.” He repeated this several times before he worked up the nerve to open his eyes.

When he saw himself, he faltered, but continued his chant as he inspected himself. Skin and bones, no amount of eating could fix, not that he had an appetite. His skin was tinged grey and lackluster, as if he had a layer of dust on him. Harry forced himself to move his eyes upward, toward his face. The closer he got, the faster he spoke. His cheeks were hollowed, causing the bones to protrude not unlike Maleficent. His lips looked as if they had never had any blood in them to begin with, and he knew if he pulled them back he’s see the sharpened points that served as his teeth. His hair sat atop his head like burnt straw, but the worst was his eyes. They were sunken in, but bright. They had lost their colour a long time ago, and instead of his mother's green, they were a piercing amber.

“You’re Harry James Potter,” he said again.

“A monster,” his reflection replied. Harry didn’t hesitate in shattering the mirror.

“I’m Harry James Potter,” he said louder, speaking to the broken shards of glass. Then he turned to the corner where he had seen the shadow earlier. “I’m Harry James Potter!”

He sat on the mattress throwing his head in his hands. No physical changes that he could see, which meant that whatever had changed would probably be worse. Maybe he wouldn’t be able to sleep anymore, or he would only be able to drink the blood of baby lambs or whatever it was demons drank.

Because that’s what he was now. A demon in a human body. He threw himself back on the mattress and laughed without humor. Who was he kidding? Harry Potter was gone. Whoever he was it wasn’t him. Out of the corner of his eye he saw the shadow was back. Harry turned his head to stare at it.

“Have you come to take me?” he asked. The shadow moved closer. “Well, go right ahead.” Harry went back to staring at the ceiling, waiting. The shadow moved to the ceiling, looking down on Harry. It expanded until it hovered just above Harry, then a blackened hand reached out and touched him. The shadow and his arm connected with a sizzle.

Harry yelped and jumped away, and the shadow receded just as quickly. “Go away!” Harry shouted, cradling his arm. “Get the fuck out of here!” He snarled and the shadow left. He looked down at his arm and saw the imprint of a hand etched into his skin. He could try to heal it, but he knew there was no point. It’d go away in its own time, if at all. He still had the outlines of fingers on his neck, but most everything else had gone away.

What was he thinking? Inviting it in like that! He was seething and the worst part was he had no one to be mad at except himself. He had brought this whole damn thing upon himself in the first place. If he hadn’t been so rash, so stupid! If he had just fucking thought things through for once.

And now he had to get himself out of it. He had promised. He sighed as he got up and made his way back to his desk. He picked up his book and began to read.

  
  



	2. Chapter 2

Hubert Sharinger was not the most fearsome of men. He was short and squat and had a terrible case of ruddy cheeks. In all, he looked like the tired adult version of a Gerber baby. Most people looked at Hubert and felt the urge to pinch his cheeks. This was despite of the fact that he was just this side of 70, and one of the most accomplished duelers in modern times. He also happened to be one of the leading minds on Dark curses. So, in spite of his almost adorable appearance, there wasn’t a lot that scared Hubert.

Harry Potter scared Hubert Sharinger more than any curse he had faced, or any duel he had had. And he once dueled Tom Riddle, which he would argue was even more frightening than Voldemort. But Harry Potter…he had never seen someone quite so intense before. He would stare at Hubert unblinking for long minutes, and spoke in short sharp sentences that left Hubert feeling like he should apologise for making him speak, and moved with the silence of still water. He was the most intimidating man Hubert had ever met.

So, when Harry Potter practically materialised in front of him on Tuesday morning, two days ahead of their scheduled meeting, Hubert screamed and fell out of his chair.

Harry said nothing, did nothing, while Hubert rambled off apologies and got back into his chair. That was the scariest thing about Harry, Hubert thought, he was so  _ quiet _ .

“Mr. Potter, I didn’t expect to see you today. Please, have a seat,” Hubert said. He then noticed Harry was already sitting and looking at him in expectation. He cleared his throat. “Ah, right, again, I’m sorry, I didn’t expect you today, otherwise I would have been more…put together.” More prepared to face a living night terror, more like. Hubert kept that thought to himself, though from the way Harry narrowed his eyes, he felt he knew anyway.

“We have a meeting,” Harry said finally, it was both a question and a statement. Hubert let out a shaky breath at the sound.

Harry’s latest change was his voice. It was a whisper of what it once was, but it was still clear as a bell. It had taken Harry a while to figure out that strange noise wasn’t just in his ears, but actually coming from him. He could see how it could be unnerving. But, there was no Glamour for voice that Harry was aware of, so Hubert would have to get over it.

“Yes, on Thursday,” Hubert replied.

Harry often had trouble keeping the date. He rarely slept, and when he did it was always light inside or outside, and he never knew what time it was. “Today isn’t Thursday.”

It wasn’t a question, but Hubert answered anyway. “Today is Tuesday.” Harry knew he should apologise but he didn’t, so Hubert kept talking. “Let me get your file.” Hubert stood up and began rifling through a cabinet. “Ah, here it is,” he said much too soon for his liking and turned back to find Harry looming over him.

Hubert jumped, and the file flew out of his hands. Harry plucked it from the air and made his way back to his chair. Hubert sank into his own chair and tried to make it less obvious he was struggling for breath. “Right, so as you can see,” Hubert began in a wheezing voice as Harry flipped through the file. “There’s ah, really not much I can do for you. Because well, you see this thing goes beyond my scope of knowledge.”

“I thought you were the best.” Harry’s tone was sharp and ripe with condescension. He couldn’t afford to lose another Curse-Breaker as he had spent way too long finding someone already. Without Hermione to help him, the process had been slow going.

“I-I am one of the best, but I am certainly not  _ the _ best,” Hubert stammered fiddling with his tie.

Harry threw the file down on the desk, and Hubert flinched. “Then who  _ is _ the best?”

Hubert shuffled his papers. It was no secret that Harry Potter had his fair share of enemies, both ones that he hated and ones that hated him. Of course none of them quite had the reputation that Voldemort had. Except one. Hubert wished to Merlin that he didn’t have to be the one to tell Harry his only hope rested on a man he hated. 

“I believe you know him from school,” Hubert hedged and Harry immediately knew he didn’t want to hear the answer. He already knew the name Hubert was avoiding. “Do you remember Draco Malfoy?”

Harry stood, and Hubert leapt out of his chair, one hand out as if trying trying to steady a spooked horse and the other reaching for his wand. “Mr. Potter?”

“He’s the only one?” Harry asked.

Hubert lowered his hand, but kept his other on his wand as he spoke. “He is the best. If he can’t help you, no one can, really.”

Harry nodded and picked the file up off the desk. “Thanks,” he bit out as an afterthought. “I’ll transfer your fee later.” With that he strode to the door, disappearing as quietly as he had appeared. Hubert sank into his chair and poured himself a hefty drink. He hoped Draco Malfoy could help, because Merlin take him if Harry Potter ever appeared in his doorway again.

—

Harry had always known this could be a possibility. When he had first realised he had been cursed, Hermione had shown him a list of experts, and Draco’s name was at the top. They had tried at least half a dozen and none of them knew anything. Hermione had been against Hubert Sharinger on the basis of him thinking women couldn’t duel. She reasoned if he was that backward, what could he know about curse breaking?

But when Harry was on his own, Hubert was the first person he went to see. At first, they seemed to make progress. But then it stalled, and Harry got worse. The curse was progressing quicker than anyone had predicted—well, everyone except Harry. He knew his lot in life.

Still, he had kept tabs on Draco in case it didn’t work out with Hubert. Draco did have an office, but he kept odd hours. By the time he found himself in front of Draco’s, it was raining. The sign on the door read "Draco Malfoy, Seong Yong, Curse Specialist." He hadn’t known Draco had a partner, but he hoped whoever it was wasn’t in.

Harry tried the door but a voice rang out that said they wouldn’t open for another couple of hours. So, Harry picked the lock and dismantled the wards and slipped inside with practiced ease. It wasn’t ethical, but he didn’t give a damn. He needed to be off of the street, away from curious eyes and unpredictable elements. Even with his Glamour and Notice-Me-Not he still attracted some attention. Sometimes he wondered if people could smell the curse on him.

He lit every light in Draco’s office and dried himself. Once that was done he looked around the office. He was somewhat relieved to find that it favoured a more modern style. The office had white walls and marble floors with a glass desk and sleek chairs. Not one shadowy corner for something to hide. But, he noted curiously, there was only one desk.

He sat himself in the brightest corner of the room and flipped through his file. Nothing he hadn’t seen before, just a lot of dead ends. When he tired of that, he wandered to Draco’s bookshelf and selected a volume he had in his to-read pile at home.

When Draco entered the office a few hours later he didn’t look the least surprised to find Harry Potter sitting cross-legged on his couch, reading his book, and drinking his tea. Harry had been out of sight for well over a year now, and if he was in Draco’s office, it meant only one thing.

“Potter,” Draco nodded, setting his bag down on the desk. “I see you’ve made yourself at home.”

“Who’s Seong Yong?” Harry asked by way of greeting. He saw Draco’s shoulders hitch at the sound of his voice, but he didn’t react otherwise.

“Me.” Draco began to empty the contents of his bag. “It’s my Korean name.”

Harry nodded. He remembered Sirius had mentioned having one before, but he never told him what it was. He set the book down and moved to stand in front of the desk. “Malfoy.”

Draco looked up then and they studied each other for a moment. Harry was struck with how good Draco looked. His hair was loose around his forehead but his thick black brows were still visible. His jaw had come down from pointy to strong and sharp enough that Harry was sure it could cut glass. Draco’s eyes were the same, clear and bright surrounded by full dark lashes. He was wearing suit trousers and a waistcoat that highlighted the lean muscles of his body. 

A twist of Draco’s lips let Harry know he’d been caught. But Harry didn’t care, and Draco couldn’t say he did either.

“So, what brings you here, Potter? Adoring fan gone off the deep end and hex your face full of boils? Probably an improvement though.”

“No,” Harry began but Draco cut him off before he could explain himself.

“A jilted lover, then? Are you cursed to come cacti for all entirety? I don’t know what you did, but you probably deserved it.”

“Malfoy.” At the word Draco stilled, like the joints of his bones turned to concrete. It lasted a moment before shattering and allowing him to move again. He narrowed his eyes at Harry who sighed. “I don’t know what I have, but I’m desperate enough to turn to you.”

Draco shook the feeling of stillness off, and huffed out, “Are you going to take the Glamour off?”

Harry was surprised Draco knew he was wearing one. He’d been so careful about applying it to look like his normal face. It drew attention, but was easier to maintain for long periods of time than trying to use someone else's. “Is it necessary?” Harry asked.

“If you want my help.”

Harry swallowed and looked away. No one had seen him without a Glamour for months. He had barely seen himself without one. He knew it was foolish, but he liked the illusion of normalcy. A part of him needed to know that it was his face that he was wearing, that if he were to catch sight of himself he wouldn’t find some twisted imitation of his own. 

Draco cleared his throat and raised a brow at him. Harry lifted his wand out of his pocket and cancelled the charm.

Draco had been prepared for something terrible. Perhaps a face covered in warts or hair spurting from odd places, that would have been fun to hold over Harry’s head. But the sight that greeted him was much worse than anything he could have imagined.

“What did you do?” Draco couldn’t control the sheer awe in his voice.

“Something very stupid,” Harry replied.

Draco recovered a bit and asked, “What else is new?” He sat down and picked up the file Harry had left on his desk. “Sharinger?”

Harry nodded, sitting as well. “I broke the Elder Wand.”

Draco’s head snapped up. “I thought that was a rumor.” Harry shook his head. “You’re right, that was stupid.”

“Look, Malfoy, I didn’t come here for you to insult me or lecture me or whatever. I fucked up. I’m aware and now I’m turning into this…this thing and I need your help.”

Draco looked at him for a long moment, measuring his next words. “Where’re Granger and Weasley?”

“What?” Harry blinked.

“I want to know where your minions are. If I’m going to help you, I assume I’m going to have to work with them as well.”

Harry looked pained, but his voice was steady when he answered. “Hermione’s pregnant. The stress was too much. It’s too dangerous to be around me so…”

“So, you thought disappearing without a trace would be less stress,” Draco supplied.

“I didn’t disappear without a trace,” Harry hissed. “I left a note.”

“And went to Ireland?” Draco said flipping through the file and he saw Harry nod out of the corner of his eye.

“There’s a lot of old magic there,” Harry explained. “Hag magic, fairy magic. I thought it would lead somewhere.”

Draco made a non-committal noise. “What I don’t understand is why you’re coming to me about this now. When exactly did you break the wand?”

“After the final battle.”

Draco scrunched his nose. “That was eight years ago. What’s been happening in the meantime?”

“You’re looking at it,” was all Harry offered.

“How much of this file is the truth?” Draco asked eventually.

“All of it,” Harry said, crossing his arms. He was beginning to wonder if it would be easier to just die than let Draco help him.

Draco seemed to have the same sentiment because he said, “I’m not going to help you, Potter.”

Harry’s face twisted into a sneer. “What do you mean?”

“Exactly what I said,” Draco replied, leaning back with a tired expression. “I’m not going to help you.”

“Why the fuck not?”

Draco began to tick things off on his fingers. “For one, I don’t like you. Two, whatever this is, you have a low chance of coming out on top and I have a success rate to maintain. Three, you’re not being honest with me-”

“I am being honest with you!” Harry growled and his eyes flashed in warning.

Draco ignored it and continued in a voice laced with skepticism. “Really? Are you sure you’re not leaving anything out?” Draco gave him a pointed look. “If you’re going to lie to me, at least make it a good one.”

Harry was up and around the table before Draco knew he was moving. He pushed Draco’s chair into the wall behind him, and placed a hand over Draco’s throat. “You owe me a life debt.”

Draco looked up at him, a picture of calm, but Harry could feel his pulse quicken beneath his hand. “Well, I guess I can’t argue with you there. But if you could do me a favour and not try to intimidate me with something so primitive as physical harm, this would probably go faster.” Draco reached up and pulled Harry’s hand away from his throat, never breaking eye contact.

Harry moved away and sat back in his chair just as quickly as he had gotten out of it. Unapologetic of his outburst, Harry gave Draco a hard look, crossed his arms, and waited.

“Well, I suppose I can help you,” Draco said, as if Harry hadn’t just had his hand wrapped around his windpipe. “But we aren’t going to get very far if you aren’t completely honest with me.”

Draco saw a shade of fear flit across Harry’s face and realised this might be harder for him than he thought. It was also entirely possible that Harry didn’t even know what had happened to him, not really. It was fairly common with these cases to pretend that what was happening was normal or wasn't happening at all.

Draco cleared his throat and had to reminded himself to stay still when Harry’s amber eyes snapped back to him. The change in colour was probably the most disconcerting thing about him.

He sighed and said as delicately as he could, “Sometimes in these cases, it’s easier for a person to take a dose of Veritaserum.”

Harry’s fists clenched, and his nostrils flared. “Why would I do that?”

Draco rubbed his fingers to his temples. “Look, Potter, it’s more than likely it's not just you inside that body. Whatever I ask you, there’s a chance  _ you  _ won’t answer. But if you take the—”

“It’s inside me?” Harry cut him off in a whisper and Draco started.

“You mean you thought—”

“I just thought it was following me,” Harry admitted. “Thought it was trying to kill me.”

“It no doubt is trying to do that or something worse, but based on what I can see here,” he waved his hand at Harry and the file. “I’d wager it’s inside of you, as well. Or…” He trailed off, not ready to admit the other possibility. 

“Or what?” Harry demanded, leaning farther across the desk than Draco thought was necessary.

“It’s best if we just figure out exactly what’s happening first,” Draco circled back.

Harry slumped back into his chair. It was one thing to have a shadow demon following him around, haunting his dreams, and turning him into a walking horror movie. Having it live  _ inside _ him was an entirely different matter.

He just couldn’t catch a break. Frustration bubbled and boiled over and before he knew it the mug he had been holding was flying across the room and shattering against the wall. He vaulted from his chair, hands itching for something, energy buzzing in his ears. But Draco was in front of him almost instantly.

“Sit down, Harry,” Draco said, his voice was quiet, but demanding. The sudden urge to obey was like pin-pricks down Harry's spine. He sat and Draco let out a breath. It was important for him to establish early on that he wasn’t someone to be pushed around. “I’m going to give you a choice: you can take the Veritaserum so I can figure out exactly what is happening to you, or you can keep lying to me. I’ll do my due diligence and it won’t be enough, and you will die. Which will it be?”

Harry didn’t need to think. “Where do you want me?”

—

Draco locked the door to his shop and cast a strong concealment charm around any possible escape routes. He sent off a few owls and shut down the Floo all the while pretending like Harry Potter wasn’t boring holes into the back of his head. Harry knew he shouldn’t stare, but the way Draco was ignoring him riled him up just a bit.

Draco would be lying if he said he wasn’t a little on edge. He couldn’t tell if it was fear or excitement or, more likely, both but his nerves were alight with anticipation. He was sure there was a word for that.

He turned to call him to the back room when the word hit him. Frisson. Harry was staring at him with a detached calmness, but his gaze was unwavering. He was sure that Harry could merely lift his hand and kill Draco with half a thought. A thrill ran up his spine.

Harry Potter had always been a powerful wizard, but this was something else altogether. Whatever it was that Harry had gotten himself into had wrapped its way around his magic, twisted it, melded it, amplified it. Draco wanted to draw it out and stamp it down and consume it all at the same time. It was intoxicating.

“Follow me,” Draco said after he found his voice. Harry stood without a word and Draco felt his presence at his back as soon as he turned away. They said nothing as Draco led them to the rear work room. In reality half potions lab, half storage for his home study overflow. But it was fortified to withstand potion blasts, so Draco hoped it would work in this case as well.

Harry tensed in the doorway when he saw the room. It was completely different from the office. It was dim and over crowded and there were plenty of dark corners for something to hide in.

Draco pointed to a chair and told Harry to sit while he found the Veritaserum. When he turned around Harry still hadn’t sat down. “Is there a problem?”

“This room,” Harry started and trailed off. He was unsure of how to explain to Draco what was wrong without risking ridicule for being afraid of the dark.

Draco surveyed the mess of the room. It wasn’t as if anyone was supposed to be here, but trust Harry Potter to judge him for the cleanliness of his storage area. “Oh, I’m sorry, I forgot to clean up before you came here and demanded that I save your life,” Draco sneered.

“It’s not-” Harry cut himself off with a huff and pulled out his wand. Draco reacted in an instant and had moved into a defensive position, wand at the ready. Harry pointed his wand at the low light hanging from the ceiling and magnified it to an almost blinding brightness. Draco winced and squinted against the light.

“Merlin, Potter!” Draco cried.

“I don’t like shadows,” Harry said and finally moved to sit in the chair. Draco grumbled to himself as he lowered his wand and shoved the dosage of Veritaserum into Harry’s hand. “Isn’t this a bit much?”

“I’m not sure if whatever’s potentially in there is resistant. Better safe than sorry,” Draco explained with a false grin. Harry nodded and knocked the dosage back. Draco watched enraptured as Harry’s eyes began to shine, much like a cat in headlights. He tightened his grip on his wand and took what he hoped appeared to be a casual step back.

Harry felt the effects of the potion immediately. His thoughts flowed quicker and his mind reached out for things he hadn’t wanted to think about. But before his mind could delve into more traumatic memories Draco cleared his throat.

“To begin, I’ll start with some base questions: What’s your name?”

The reply was instant. “Harry James Potter.”

“Age?”

“25.”

“Why were you late to the welcoming feast in sixth year?”

“Because you petrified me after kicking me in the face.” Draco noted with some satisfaction that he sounded rather displeased about that. That’s what he got for sticking his nose where it didn’t belong.

“Well, you were spying. Never could resist spying on me, could you, Potter?”

“No,” Harry answered, and Draco hadn’t meant it as a question but he was glad he had asked.

“Oh, I’m going to remember that.”

Harry huffed and crossed his arms. “Can you ask some relevant questions maybe?”

“Who says that’s not relevant?”

“I do,” Harry answered before Draco could continue.

“How did the changes start?” They had just had this conversation, but the Veritaserum often brought out things people didn’t realise they knew.

“I don’t know,” Harry answered.

He wasn’t lying, but Draco needed to know how long things had been like this. He rephrased the question, “When did you start to notice the changes?”

“After I went to an Elder tree.” Harry looked away.

“What exactly happened?”

Harry turned back to him. “I make brooms. I was collecting wood and found an Elder tree and I touched it. I didn’t think anything was weird at first, I thought I was just depressed and it just kind of spiraled from there.” 

“And nothing happened when you touched the tree?”

“There was something. It felt like something came out of me.”

“And how long did you wait to tell anyone?” Draco asked.

Harry narrowed his eyes and gritted out, “Too long.”

“When did you?” Draco repeated.

“A few months after. People started to notice.” At this Harry looked away from Draco.

Draco honed in. “What did they notice?”

“The way I look, my skin, my hair,” Harry answered. “That’s what changed first. Hermione said I looked like someone had left me in a pool too long.”

Draco noted that Harry’s skin seemed dry, if anything. It was pulled taut across his bones almost in danger of ripping. “But it’s not like that now.”

“It changed again.”

“When?”

“I don’t know. After the dream. It’s always after the dream.” Harry’s head was starting to spin with all these questions. Maybe Draco had given him too much Veritaserum.

Draco came forward, his feet moving on their own accord. “What dream?” Despite popular belief, dream premonitions weren’t as common as stories made them out to be. If Harry was having them, that meant one of two things: one) Harry was actually a Seer or two) this was much worse than Draco originally thought. “Is it always the same?”

“Yes,” Harry breathed. “Always the same. Always running. Always dark.”

Harry was looking at him again, and Draco felt himself move until their legs were almost touching. “What else?”

“It’s a hallway and it’s dark. There’s a voice telling me to stay and it laughs at me. And then things get lighter, and I can see the walls and its bodies, skeletons, and skulls and there's just laughing.”

“How does it end?”

“It doesn’t. I just wake up.”

Draco opened his mouth to ask another question, but with the way Harry was looking at him it died in his throat. He knew he should say something, but Draco felt suddenly immobile. It was when he felt Harry’s hand ghosting up his thigh that he realised there was already a hand planted on his hip. How hadn’t he noticed this until just now? More importantly, did Harry know what he was doing?

“Are you aware that you’re touching me right now?”

“Yes.”

Draco swallowed. “Why?”

“I want to.” The answer came so simply that it caught Draco off guard. Harry took the opportunity to settle his other hand on Draco’s hip and pull him forward.

Draco sucked in a breath. Part of him wanted to pull away and the other part wanted to move in further, to see what Harry would do. But this was neither the time nor the place and he still wasn’t sure he was only talking to Harry.

“Who are you?”

Harry tilted his head, as if he had to remember the answer. “I don’t know.” He looked angry, and Draco felt the hands on his hips tightening. He doubled back.

“What’s your name?”

“Harry Potter.” Harry felt annoyance creeping up at the question.

“Who are you?” Draco repeated.

Harry searched for an answer, and when he found none the annoyance burned into anger. “I told you, I don’t know!” Harry pushed Draco back, but kept his hands on him.

Draco fought the urge to pry Harry’s fingers off of him, afraid that it would make the situation worse. 

“Are you just Harry?”

Harry was staring at him, trying to find the answer, trying to find the words, when a shadow caught Draco’s eye. He pulled himself out of Harry’s grasp and pointed his wand in the direction of the shadow without hesitation, a spell on his lips. But Harry jerked to attention and that shimmering look faded from his eyes. He turned his head towards the shadow and hissed revealing jagged teeth. The shadow vanished and Harry slumped back into his chair.

“What the hell was that?” Draco asked more to himself than Harry, but Harry answered anyway.

“I think it’s me,” he whispered. 

Draco looked back at Harry and shuddered. “That’s what I was afraid of.”

—

Draco left Harry to his own devices while the Veritaserum wore off which Harry was grateful for. He hated the idea of not being in control of himself, especially around someone he had such a tumultuous history with. In all honesty he had expected Draco to take advantage of the situation.

He had said as such and Draco had hit him with a hard look that made Harry’s stomach turn in unexpected ways. “Of course you’d think that,” Draco had said. Harry couldn’t recall a time when he’d seen Draco so indignant, and he still had enough decency in him to feel bad about it.

But now that he was alone with his thoughts he had to process what he had admitted to Draco. He had suspected for a long time that the shadow that was following was in fact a shadow in the purest sense of the word. But he hadn’t wanted to think about it. If he said it out loud, if he acknowledged it, that made it real, something he had to deal with. But if he ignored it didn’t have power, it couldn’t hurt him. At least that’s what he had told himself.

And how could he fight a shadow? How was he supposed to get rid of a part of himself? It was almost like a Horcrux, and that was the last thing he needed. But it was a possibility, he had killed Voldemort just before he broke the wand…

He couldn’t think about this anymore. He got out of the chair and walked over to a table covered in books. He was under strict instructions not to touch anything, but if Draco expected him to follow them, that was his own fault.

He was flipping through a decrepit book when Draco walked back in. “Didn’t I tell you not to touch anything?” He was leaning against the door frame with his arms crossed, his trademark smirk in place, none of his earlier anger in sight. Harry felt a jolt of want course through him but he pushed it aside. It was bad enough that he had felt Draco up earlier.

“You did,” Harry answered evenly. “But we both knew I wasn’t going to listen.”

Draco couldn’t help but laugh at that, low and deep. Nothing about this day could get any stranger, he thought. “I suppose we did. Has the Veritaserum worn off yet?”

Harry didn’t feel compelled to reply so he said, “I think so.”

“Good.” Draco nodded and pushed off of the wall. “It’s time to talk about options.” He motioned for Harry to follow him as he turned and started back down the hall, Harry’s presence a silent heat behind him. 


	3. Chapter 3

“I’m still not sure what exactly it is,” Draco said, sitting at his desk and pulling out a file. “I'm not yet convinced it's part of you, but rather just attached to you. My guess is you ended up touching the tree that the Elder wand came from. We’ve got a few options, but I’m inclined to start with the simplest. I see you’ve tried a few purification rituals.”

“They didn’t work,” Harry supplied.

Draco glanced up from the file he was organising and gave him a cool look. “Obviously. What I want to know is during your time in Ireland did you ever try any fairy rituals?”

“You mean rituals done by fairies or rituals to get rid of them?”

“Either or,” Draco replied.

“I’ve tried a few to get rid of them. But never any done by them.”

“That’s probably for the best,” Draco admitted. “Fairy magic is not meant for humans, the results are often much different than promised.” He shook his head, willing away a memory of when he did not heed the warnings. “What did you try?”

“Do you think it’s a fairy?” Harry asked instead. While he wasn’t thrilled at the idea that it was a fairy, as they were contrary and cruel, he’d take that over himself any day. It would be a relief to put a name on this  _ thing _ .

Draco made a face at the brush off, but answered anyway. “No, I don’t think it is. Although that doesn’t mean it’s not related to fairies. But if it’s something else entirely, if it really is you, there are other things we can try.” And while Draco wasn’t sure of the end game, he could guess. “Look, I can’t promise you that I can fix this, I’m not sure it’s something we can fix. But what I can say is that I will at the very least figure out what it is, and maybe that will be enough.”

Harry nodded, a far away look in his eyes. He knew there was a possibility that this was it for him, that he couldn’t get better. All he had gotten from the others were overconfident assurances that they could cure him. They'd tell him  _ Give us a week _ , which always led to  _ Sorry, but you couldn’t be helped _ .

Draco cleared his throat and the noise pulled Harry back to him. For a moment the clarity in Harry’s face left Draco floundering. He shifted minutely in his chair. “So, did you try any fairy purification rituals?”

“Just one,” Harry answered. “It involved nettles and hot irons.”

Draco snorted, “How archaic.” He doubted it was even actual magic. More like a trick up an ancient Muggle medicine woman’s sleeve. There was something to be said for Muggle medicine women. They were open enough to try magical remedies, but a true magical cure would never cause pain like that. “How did that go?”

“Not well,” Harry admitted.

“What happened?”

“I can’t be sure, I don’t remember much about what happened but I think I--it-- whatever that thing is, attacked the woman helping me.” He paused. “I didn’t try anything else after that.”

Draco nodded, “And when was this?”

“A few months ago, I think.”

“In Ireland?” Harry nodded and Draco continued. “Where exactly?”

Harry frowned. “Why?” It hadn’t worked, what need was there for Draco to know more?

“Do you want my help or not?” Draco asked, leaning back in his chair and giving Harry a hard look. “Sorry, Potter, but I’m not exactly willing to die for you.”

“You were once,” Harry said without much thought.

The air must of have left the room because it certainly had left Draco’s lungs. Harry ignored the fact that Draco wasn’t breathing and leaned in. “You told them it wasn’t me. You knew it was me.”

Draco felt himself being pulled forward. He wanted to get closer to Harry, but he couldn’t remember telling his body to move. “I didn’t want you to die,” he said softly.

“But if they had found out you were lying…” Harry trailed off. He didn’t stop himself, he reached out across the desk and brushed his fingers against Draco’s jaw, let them walk down his neck to rest over the jugular. He could feel Draco’s pulse, fitful but strong. Without warning Draco’s hand came up and pulled Harry’s fingers away, and held them fast in his hand.

“Where in Ireland, Harry?” It wasn’t a question. It was a command.

They stared at each other for a long moment before Harry pulled away, bowed his head, tried not to smile. What they were battling for Harry didn’t know for certain, but he did know he’d lost, and wasn’t  _ that  _ something?

“County Cork,” Harry told him. “Just outside of Macroom.”

Draco marked it down and leaned back in his chair, not looking at Harry. “I need a couple of days to sort some things out. Come back here day after next and we can try something I have in mind.”

“Is it Dark?” Harry asked.

Draco’s eyes flicked up, lips drawn back in a half sneer. “Does it matter?” Harry shook his head and Draco went back to his notes. “As for a matter of payment, I’m not cheap.”

“I have money,” Harry replied.

Draco nodded, still writing. “I’ll see you on Thursday at 10, then.”

Harry was up and out of the office, the door swinging shut behind him before Draco could blink.

—

Just as Harry stepped out of Draco’s office he remembered to recast his Glamour. The rain had left the streets a bit bare so no one had seen him. He waffled for a moment about whether he should head back home and decided, seeing as he was out, he might as well stay out.

He kept his head down as he walked, so those few who did see through his Notice-Me-Not didn’t pay him any attention. Still he couldn’t fight the urge to shrink into himself, to become so small he’d disappear so no one could see him.

He had never liked people looking at him, but he had gotten used to it. But now eyes on him were the pricks of an injection; quick and stinging and the anticipation of them much scarier than the action. But then there was Draco.

When Draco looked at him it felt familiar, it was a challenge, and Harry welcomed it. He couldn’t stand the way Sharinger had looked at him, because Sharinger had tried so hard  _ not _ to look at him.

Draco’s gaze hadn’t faltered after the initial shock of seeing Harry sans Glamour. He had looked at Harry with confident authority. It raised Harry’s flesh in a way he had never felt before. He couldn’t tell if he wanted to break Draco or be broken by him, but he was certain he’d be happy either way.

It was a strange thing, he thought, that Draco Malfoy was making him feel this way, like he wanted to lose. But given the choice between losing to a malevolent demon and Draco Malfoy, he would choose Draco any day. But then, there was a possibility it wasn’t  _ him  _ that wanted that, either. It could be whatever it was inside of him. Maybe it was latching on to Draco because it recognised something Dark.

That had to be it, Harry reasoned. It was this  _ thing _ , it wasn’t him. He was so distracted by his own thoughts he hadn’t realised where he was heading. Before he knew it, he was pulling on the door to the Owl Post. He looked around and found the place half full, but no one so much as glanced his way. Without another thought, he headed for the stationary section and pulled off a letter set.

Harry stared down at the blank paper with resentment. There were so many things he wanted to say to Ron and Hermione, to Mr. and Mrs. Weasley, to Ginny, to Neville and Luna, but he didn’t know how to explain why he had disappeared any better than he had the first time.

He put the quill to the parchment and wrote ‘Dear Ron and Hermione,’ before setting it down. What was he to say?  _ Sorry for leaving without saying goodbye, but I’m pretty sure I’m turning into a demon, and I didn’t want to accidentally eat your unborn baby? _ He snorted, and someone looked in his direction but their eyes slid over him unseeing.

He picked the quill up again, ‘I’m sorry I haven’t written, but I’ve been busy.’ Busy? Jesus, that was going to go over well with Hermione. He scratched it out and wrote again. ‘I didn’t want to write unless I had any news. And I still don’t and I’m sorry. But I might be onto something now. I’m working with someone new and I think, well I hope they can help me. I’m sorry that I left without saying goodbye properly but I couldn’t risk it. I’m sorry. I hope you can forgive me. Please be well. Ron, give your family my love, and Nev and Luna, too. If I can’t fix this, if I can’t come back-’

Harry paused. He hadn’t meant to write that. He didn’t know what he was going to do if he couldn’t find a cure for this. He still didn’t even know what this  _ was _ . But Draco had said he could at least do that and Harry trusted him for some reason. He scratched out this last line in the letter. ‘I’ll try to write again soon, I promise. I miss you both. Love, Harry’

Harry shoved the letter into the envelope and scribbled the address on the outside. He paid the delivery fee, shoved his hands in his pockets and left the Owl Post before he convinced himself to  _ Accio _ the letter back.

—

Draco sat down across from Pansy, who greeted him with a “So the Golden Boy came to see you.”

“Wouldn’t really call him that,” Draco replied signaling a waiter. Pansy raised an eyebrow. “He’s more like a shade of Harry Potter. Merlin, if you could have seen him.”

“So what’s he got then? Must be serious for you to have owled me about it.” 

“If only if it were as simple as serious,” Draco sighed. The waiter appeared, and Draco ordered a bourbon neat. Pansy frowned, something she never did, as it caused lines. If she hadn’t been concerned before, she definitely was now.

“Alright, spill it,” she demanded as soon as the waiter was gone.

“I’ve never seen anything like it. It’s like he’s not even human anymore. He looks like a creature out of a bedtime story. Something you tell to children so they’ll behave.”

“What do you mean?”

“He looks like him, but like someone drew him for a horror story. His skin is like a dead person's, and his hair looks like the end of a broom, and his voice! Salazar, I can’t describe it! It’s like something from a nightmare. It’s low, but it pierces, I can’t explain it. But the worst thing is his eyes.”

“His eyes?” She leaned forward.

Draco hummed in assent. “They’re different. They’re amber, and it’s like when you see a cat’s eyes in the dark sometimes. They’re so clear, it’s like he can see right into your brain and watch the synapses firing away.” 

He debated telling her about the way Harry had acted. How he had pulled Draco into him, how he looked at Draco like he was the last piece of treacle tart on earth and probably didn’t even know he was doing it. But, he reasoned, she had too much information already, and Draco wasn’t ready to admit he’d liked it, something she was guaranteed to notice if he brought it up.

“So, what’s wrong with him then?”

“That’s the thing, I don’t know. I barely know where to begin with this, and the worst thing is how it happened.” A drink appeared on the table, and Draco took a hearty gulp. “He actually broke the Elder Wand, the absolute fuckhead.”

Her mouth fell open a tad. “Merlin, are you serious? What was he thinking?” Pansy leaned back, looking at a spot in front of her trying to process the stupidity that was Harry Potter. 

“Probably that he was ridding the world of some evil or other, but whatever the reason now I have to deal with it. And you know it’s going to be some ancient shit that is going to be far more complicated than is necessary.” Draco snorted and leaned back into the booth and crossed his arms.

“So you’re going to help him, then?”

“Of course, Pansy. Can you imagine what it would do for me if I was the one that saved the Saviour?”

“There’s also the matter of your Life Debt,” Pansy added with a knowing look.

Draco nodded and said, “See? Killing two owls with one stone. I pay my debt and get all the glory; it’s a win for me either way.”

“And what if you can’t help him?” Pansy smirked.

“Well then, the only people that will know that are sitting at this table, and we certainly won’t be telling, will we?”

“No, we won’t.” She took a sip of her drink. “So what are you going to do?”

“I’m not even sure what it is yet,” he admitted. “I’m going to try a simple expelling ritual first, see where that gets me.”

Pansy nodded absently.  “Have you told anyone else?” She asked.

“No, and you had better not either. The last thing I need is my Mother showing up in the middle of me trying to open a portal to the Fae realm. Or worse, Hermione Granger.”

Pansy raised her eyebrows. “You mean to say the minions aren’t in on this?”

“Apparently there’s a little Weasley on the way, not that the world needs anymore of  _ those _ .” Draco wrinkled his nose.

“So you’re officially Harry Potter’s last hope?” Pansy asked.

“It looks that way.”

Pansy smirked. “Well, Draco, I have to say good luck. He’s only the saviour of the wizarding world. No pressure.”

Draco knocked back the rest of his drink with a grimace.

—

One of the fortunate things about Draco’s business was it allowed him to take off time whenever he wanted. So, after Harry Potter had came to see him, he took care of what business he could by owl, before putting out a notice that the office would close for the next few weeks.

He wasn’t sure exactly how much time he was going to have to devote to Harry’s case, but he wasn’t about to get distracted. There was too much at stake for them both.

Draco had spent Wednesday researching ways to draw out foreign magic and expel it. So by the time Harry walked into his office on Thursday morning he was feeling rather confident.

The only sound Harry made as he entered the office was a short, “Malfoy.”

“Potter,” Draco replied, standing up from his desk. “Don’t sit, we have places to be.”

Harry raised a brow at him but moved away from the desk. Harry eyed Draco’s perfectly pressed navy button-down, trousers, and waistcoat. “Are we going for tea with the Queen?”

Draco paused in putting on his coat and gave Harry a cool look. “It’s not my fault you’ve never heard of a pressing charm.”

“Somehow I highly doubt you’ve ever performed one.”

Draco moved to the center of the office, and Harry followed. “Malfoy’s don’t do manual labour.” He stuck out his arm for Harry to grab. “Ready?” Harry took hold and nodded.

Draco Apparated them to the middle of a field.

“So, what are we doing here?” Harry asked looking around

“This is a dimensional boundary between the Fae realm. I know you've tried fairy purification, but this is expelling, an important distinction. So, the simplest solution is to drive the thing out and have it return to wherever it came from. Given that this came about because of wood, it’s likely that it’s a Fae creature.”

Harry turned to face him. “What?”

Draco rolled his eyes. “It’s like a curtain between our realms. On this side we can only see this field, but on the other, well, this might still be a field but there will be Fae on that side. We want the Fae to go back home and take whatever you've got with it.”

“Like Platform 9 and 3/4,” Harry replied looking around as if he squinted hard enough he might see it.

“Yes, like that,” Draco replied, watching Harry with a mildly annoyed expression. “It’s not just going to pop up because you want it to, you know.”

Harry looked back at him and frowned. “I  _ know _ that. But ever since this thing started, sometimes I can see things, like…lines? In the air. I’m not sure what they are, but I can see them here.”

“That was not in your file.” If Harry could see the dimensional boundary it meant that the thing was definitely not of this realm. But the problem remained: which realm was it from?

“Sharinger never asked, and I didn’t think about it,” Harry answered, and Draco snorted. Harry stuck his hand out in the air and let a finger move across a line, sending a shiver down his spine. “This is the strongest I've seen them.”

“Well, at least I know we’re in the right place." Draco rolled his eyes. "But if you could stop touching whatever it is you’re touching, that would be great because I’d rather you not accidentally tear down the boundary to the Fae realm, thanks.”

Harry withdrew his hand and turned to face Draco fully. “So, what do we do?”

“We have to draw it out,” Draco answered as he pulled out his wand and rolling it between his fingers.

Harry narrowed his eyes. He had seen Draco make that particular motion before and usually what followed it was not good. “And how do we do that?”

“Well, Fae are usually attracted to power, so I’m going to hex you.” Draco didn't give him time to protest before he sent a powerful stinging spell at Harry’s chest.

“Fuck!” Harry shouted. Draco took a step back as Harry’s voice rippled through the air and knocked the wind out of him.

“Salazar!” Draco whispered when he could breathe again. “What in Merlin’s ballsack was  _ that _ ?” Harry was quickly losing his Glamour and Draco could see the pointed edges of his teeth as Harry snarled at him.

“What the fuck was that for?” Harry stalked forward and grabbed Draco by the coat lapels.

Draco struggled to push him off as he replied. “I told you, we have to draw the Fae out. You’re the power source.”

Harry’s eyes flashed to amber, and he shoved Draco back. “And why couldn’t I hex you?”

“Because that would have hurt.” Draco’s voice was shaky, but he still punctuated the reply with a smirk.

Harry lunged forward, a primal urge to physically maim Draco surging through him. Harry tackled Draco to the ground and scratched at his face. “How’s that for hurt, you son of a bitch!”

Draco yelped and grabbed Harry’s fingers and pulled them back as far as they would go. When Harry reared back, howling in pain, Draco rolled them so he was sitting on Harry’s abdomen.

“If you don’t stop — ” Draco growled, trying and failing to pin Harry’s wiggling arms to the ground.

“You’ll what?” Harry spat and swung his legs up and locked his ankles around Draco’s neck and pulled. Draco’s back cracked at the sudden movement and he scrambled to pull his legs out from underneath him. In the chaos, one of Draco’s feet caught Harry in the face, splitting his lip.

“How the fuck can you even do that?” Draco groaned, straining his head to look down at Harry.

“I’m flexible.” Harry grinned revealing a mouth filled with blood. He sat straight up and Draco’s breath left him in whoosh as all Harry’s weight settled onto his lower stomach. Harry looked down at him with a hint of concern.

“You know, this is a position I could get used to seeing you in,” Draco huffed out when he could breathe again.

“What? Me kicking your sorry arse?”

“No, you sitting on my dick.”

Harry’s response was lost in his throat when he heard an unfamiliar sound. Somehow he knew it to be giggling, but it sounded as much like laughter as it it did screeching.

“I think they’re mating,” a voice whispered.

“I think they’re trying,” a different voice replied.

Harry toppled off Draco as he sat up and looked around.

The field had changed into a small clearing. There was a circle of trees peppered with stones in between, surrounded by flowers. Every colour they saw looked brighter than the last, the lines were sharper, everything was clearer. When Harry looked back at Draco he gasped. He still looked like Draco, but he was  _ glowing _ .

“Merlin,” he whispered, reaching out to touch Draco’s face. “You’re…you’re beautiful.”

Draco started and turned his attention to Harry. It was like his Glamour was back, and the blood in his teeth was gone, but still he looked softer somehow. He looked like what Draco imagined he would if Harry Potter had not been the Chosen One.

“I told you they were trying to mate,” a voice came again.

Harry pulled his hand back and whipped his head around trying to find the speaker.

“Oh no, we’ve interrupted them.” There was that strange giggle again and a rustling behind a tree.

“Potter,” Draco whispered, hoping his voice wasn’t as alarmed as he was. “Do not speak.”

“Where are we?” Harry whispered.

“In the Fae realm. We aren't supposed to be here. They were just supposed to come to us.” Draco looked around without moving his head, searching for the creatures that had been talking. “We are going to stand up very slowly. Don’t make any sudden movements.”

Harry’s nod was so small Draco almost didn’t see it. Carefully he leaned forward, telegraphing his movement. Harry followed suit just as slowly.

Harry wasn’t sure he was even breathing right now. He didn’t know much about Fae lore, but what he did know was that people who went to the Fae realm usually didn’t come back. He must have been breathing, must have been making some noise, because Draco reached out and took his hand, murmuring for him to calm down.

Harry closed his eyes and tried to focus himself. The last thing he needed was for the shadow to come when he was stuck in the middle of the Fae realm. If that were to happen, they’d likely never survive. Not in any way that counted, at least.

Draco could feel Harry’s heartbeat beginning to steady through his palm. He went to pull his hand away, but Harry held on fast, and Draco didn’t try again. Instead, he cleared his throat a bit louder than normal and waited.

It was important for the Fae to interact with them first. If Draco called out to them, they would know that Harry and Draco wanted something, and they could use it against them. But if they initiated the conversation, they would have less ammunition to try and trick them. When nothing happened, Draco steeled himself and cleared his throat again.

There was rustling and two different creatures appeared before them. Draco let out a sigh of relief.

The first creature was about the size of a toddler, but was clearly a type of troll. The second creature was small, no bigger than a pixie, but looked like a human that had been dyed green. Its eyes were all pupils and its wings were two times the size of its body.

They came close to Harry and Draco and looked them up and down. “Why are you here?” The troll creature asked, and Harry recognised it as the first voice.

Harry opened his mouth to speak, but Draco beat him to it. “A mistake.”

“You’re wizards,” The small one accused. “You were at the boundary. Why?”

Draco tried to come up with an acceptable reason to be at the boundary if not to contact the Fae. “Mating,” he blurted, remembering the creatures earlier ideas. “We were mating.”

The troll looked at them through narrowed eyes. “Why there?”

Draco hesitated, and Harry replied, “We heard it makes mating…better." Draco glared at him.

The small one cocked its head at Harry. “But there was so much blood.”

“Er, yes, uhm, sometimes that can be good,” Harry replied.

“Was it good?”

“Yes,” Draco jumped in. “It was great. We loved it.”

“But you didn’t finish,” the troll put in. “You can finish, if you want.” The troll plopped down and looked at them, waiting.

Harry turned to Draco, his face asking how they were going to get out this. He couldn’t have sex in front of a troll and a fairy with Draco Malfoy, he just couldn’t!

“Well, that is very kind of you,” Draco hedged. “But I’m afraid it’s really not something you want to see.”

“Why’s that?” The small one asked.

“Well-”

Whatever else Draco was going to say was cut off by a loud thumping noise. The troll jumped up and the small one began to fly in frenzy, repeating “oh no” over and over.

Harry jerked, reaching for his wand, but Draco tugged on his arm. “Stop it,” he hissed. “Before you get us killed!”

Harry moved his hand to the side and tried to quell the stinging of his instincts telling him to  _ fight _ . The small one and the troll were still buzzing about when a procession of what appeared to be garden gnomes entered the clearing. The small one and the troll knelt on the ground as the eldest garden gnome came forward.

Harry moved to kneel as well, but Draco shook his head. Kneeling to a fairy king would end in no other way than servitude. Instead, Draco bowed low and Harry mimicked him.

“Who are you?” the Fairy King asked as he stepped in front of them.

“We are just passers-by,” Draco said before Harry could. “We didn’t mean to trespass.”

“They’re wizards!” the small one piped up, and the troll nodded.

The Fairy King gave them both a long look and they lowered their heads. “I am aware that they are wizards,” he said, then turned to look at Harry and Draco. “Why were you near the boundary?”

“They were trying to mate,” the troll interjected.

The Fairy King whipped around and struck the troll on the side of the head. It fell to its side with a cry. “I was not speaking to you!” the Fairy King shouted. “And to tell such lies!” The Fairy King stamped his foot.

“But he’s telling the truth,” Harry interrupted. He regretted it as soon as the words left his mouth, and the look on Draco’s face was not reassuring in the least.

“Wizard!” the Fairy King screeched. “You dare to address me!”

“I only meant-” Harry began before he could stop himself. The Fairy King shrieked, the sound so piercing Harry wouldn’t be surprised if his ears were bleeding.

“Insolence!” The Fairy King stamped his foot.

Draco had had enough. Harry’s mouth was going to get them killed or enslaved in the Fae Realm, and he didn’t know which one was worse at this point. Draco reached up and grabbed Harry by the back on the neck, forcing him into a deep bow.

“Sir, if I may,” Draco murmured looking at his feet. It was risky to talk out of turn, but he needed to do something to distract the king from his anger.

There was a long silence before Draco heard, “Proceed.”

“Please forgive us. My friend and I meant no disrespect, for he is but a simple wizard, you see, and it seems your power has made him go a bit stupid.”

Draco saw the Fairy King move out of the corner of his eye. He was circling them now and Draco could feel him assessing their magic.

“Power,” the Fairy King said. “Great power. I see now why you have come here. Immense power. But from where? This does not exist in your realm.” The Fairy King stopped in front of Draco and tipped his head up, so that Draco could look into the King’s beady little eyes. Draco suppressed a shudder as the King spoke, trying to ignore the saliva wetting those lips and trickling down the sides of his mouth. “Where is this power from? Tell me!”

“Sir, forgive me, but I don’t know.”

“Don’t know!” the Fairy King spat. “Of course you don’t know! Stupid little wizards never know anything.” He pushed Draco’s head back down with such force, Draco’s chin hit his chest. The King turned to Harry, and Draco felt Harry moving before he cold stop him. Harry reached out, a snarl forming in the back of his throat and grabbed at the Fairy King. But as soon as Harry touched the King, they both flew backward with a crack.

The sky above them turned black and chaos erupted. There was howling all around, and Fae creatures were appearing out of thin air. They were pulling and pinching and biting at Draco. He pulled out his wand and cast a protection charm powerful enough to blast the creatures into the trees.

In the distance he could see the boundary closing in. They needed to be in just the right place to come out on the right side of it. When he turned to look at Harry he gasped. Gone was the soft Harry of moments ago, instead there stood the Glamourless Harry. But everything about him seemed sharper, more in focus, like Draco was looking at him through a magnifying charm.

“It’s from the other side!” the Fairy King shouted. “Close the boundary! Get it out!”

Harry couldn’t remember being this angry in a long time. He didn’t know why, but he only thing he wanted to do was take the Fairy King’s hands and crush the bones in them into dust one by one until the King stopped breathing from the pain.

Draco watched as Harry stalked forward, eyes dead set on the King. Behind him the boundary was closing, and the farther away from it Harry got, the more likely it was he would be stuck in the Fae realm.

Draco tried to move towards him, but he was stuck. Behind him a troll was banging a club on the ground, the vibrations causing his feet to stay on the ground. “Harry, stop!” Draco shouted as loud as he could.

Harry paused mid-step, and his head whipped around in a movement that wouldn’t look out of place on a predator. Draco called his name again, and he could see Harry straining to hear him. “Come here!” Draco yelled. Harry seemed to consider this for a moment, before he turned and started towards Draco.

The boundary was encircling them fast and Harry still wasn’t there. Draco shouted at him to go faster, and Harry picked up the pace, even so he was just out of arm's reach and the boundary was almost upon them. Feet still firmly on the ground, Draco flung his upper body forward, and caught hold of Harry’s arm, just as the boundary closed around them.

Harry barely had a minute to breathe before he realised something still wasn’t quite right. They were back in the field on the right side of the boundary, and he and Draco seemed to be in one piece. But the sky that had appeared in the Fae realm was still hovering over them.

Draco groaned as he disentangled himself from Harry. “Potter, you are the most stupidly reckless person I have ever meet. You absolute imbecile. You almost got us killed, you almost ended up trapped in the Fae realm! And it’s highly likely you’ve irrevocably offended the Fairy King, so I hope you’re prepared for the consequences of  _ that _ on the human world.”

Harry wasn’t listening to anything Draco was saying, instead he was scanning the tree line in the distance, trying to figure out if he was actually seeing an army of shadows appearing or if that was just in his head.

“Malfoy,” Harry interrupted in a soft voice and Draco finally stopped talking long enough to look at Harry properly. Harry didn’t say anything else, just looked at the tree line with knitted brows.

Draco followed his line of sight and his mouth dropped when he saw what Harry was looking at. In the trees, amongst the branches and leaves all the way to the ground, shadows moved like water through the air. They were separate, but they moved as one, roiling and pacing through the trees like they were waiting for something.

In the sky a cloud passed in front of the sun, completely blocking it out. The shadows moved forward. Draco and Harry scrambled to their feet and drew their wands. The shadows shifted, twisted together to make a large whirlwind in the sky. The cloud was moving away from the sun now, and the shadows spun together like a tornado before finally bursting and disappearing in all directions.

The sky cleared, back to the sunny day it had been before they had entered the Fae realm. Harry looked back at the tree line but there were only the shadows of the forest.

“What just happened?” Harry asked, lowering his wand.

“I don’t know,” Draco answered. “But whatever it was, it can’t be good.

  
  



	4. Chapter 4

When they had returned to Draco's office, they didn't speak for a long time. Harry recast his Glamour, before he sat on the couch and stared at a spot ahead of him for a long time. Meanwhile, Draco shuffled around books and papers in a vain attempt to appear calm.

After some time, Draco turned to Harry and said, "I think you should stay with me."

Harry squinted at him. “Why? It’s not like I can’t take care of myself.”

Draco rolled his eyes. “That’s doubtful seeing as you got into this mess in the first place.”

“Well, it’s not like I meant to do it,” Harry shot back, crossing his arms. Draco had an annoying knack for making Harry feel like he was twelve again.

“Well of course you didn’t mean to do it, Potter,” Draco mocked. “But the fact of the matter is you did it. Besides, with what happened today it’s safer for everyone if you’re somewhere I can keep my eye on you.”

Harry shot off the couch, crowding into Draco’s space. “I’m not a fucking child, Malfoy!”

Draco didn’t even flinch. He was well used to Harry’s holier-than-thou, woe-is-me, it-was-an-accident attitude, but he was in the right today, and he wasn’t going to back down.

“You’re certainly acting like one. You've not only put both of our lives in danger today with your inability to fucking  _ think _ before you act, but you may have started a war with the fairies,  _ and _ that’s not even to mention whatever the fuck those shadows were. And now look at you, you’re not getting your way and what’s your first reaction?” He stepped even closer to Harry, so they were practically chest to chest. “So if you’re going to behave like a brat, don’t be surprised when there are consequences.”

Something in Harry’s chest shifted. All that righteous anger left him in the space of Draco's breath mixing with his. It was replaced by a urgent desire to see how far he could push Draco. How long would it take for Draco to snap? It was that same feeling he had had the other day, like he was losing but somehow was winning. 

“So what are they?”

Draco blinked and took a half step back. “Excuse me?”

Harry stepped forward, and placed a finger on Draco’s chest. He could feel Draco’s heartbeat quicken under the touch. “What are the consequences if I misbehave?” He felt more than heard Draco’s breath catch. He glanced up, and a slow smile spread over his face when he saw Draco’s pupils were dilated.

Draco swallowed the lump in his throat. As soon as Harry had touched him, his eyes lowered and lips quirked into a smirk, his mouth had gone dry. His mind supplied a stream of possibilities of ways he could get Harry to keep looking like  _ that,  _ none of which were workplace appropriate. He was supposed to be a professional.

“Sit down.” Draco’s voice was much rougher than he meant it to be, and Harry grinned but did as Draco asked, leaning into the side of the sofa. He looked up at Draco expectantly. “What are you doing?”

“Isn’t it obvious?” Harry blinked, trying his best to appear innocent. “I’m trying to behave.”

Draco groaned and covered his face with his palms. He did not have the maturity to deal with this. Harry Potter on his sofa, practically giving him a hand-written invitation to do... Well, Draco didn’t know what exactly, but the field they were in was pretty clear and Merlin did he  _ want _ .

But he couldn’t. He was at work, and Harry was a client, not to mention one that had one of the most serious curses Draco had ever seen.

The mood was shattered by a tapping at the window. Harry sat up straighter and watched Draco as he went to the window and let the owl in. He untied the note and scanned it. The second Draco rounded on him, Harry knew he was in trouble.

“Who’s it from?” Harry asked.

“The Ministry,” Draco snapped.

“What’s it say?”

“Unprecedented bursts of magical energy,” Draco hissed. “Fae magic, they suspect.” He flung the note at Harry.

Harry read the note and looked up at Draco with knitted brows. “Are they joking? A curfew? For a few garden gnomes coming to life?”

“No, they are not joking, because the Fairy King has declared war. They’ll have to evacuate everyone who lives near a boundary.” Draco began to pace. “Not to mention the havoc this could wreak on herb growers. And the potions industry…the medical field, Salazar if the Goblins get in on this!”

“But fairy magic isn’t as strong here, right?” Harry stammered. “It can’t be that serious.”

Draco stopped mid step and threw his hands in the air. “For fuck’s sake, Potter, it’s beyond that!” He stomped back over to Harry and pointed a finger in his face. “You are coming home with me where  _ hopefully _ you’ll be able to avoid the temptation to set the world on fire.”

At the look on Draco’s face, Harry swallowed his reply and nodded.

—

Draco’s flat, Harry noted with growing anxiety, was nothing like his office. Gone were the simple minimalistic accents, light colours, and bright spaciousness. This space had clearly been decorated by the same people who did the Slytherin common room. Everything was plush and oversized, draped in dark fabrics that absorbed most of the light. There were things strewn everywhere; books, trinkets, scrolls, clothes, tossed onto chair backs and piled on the floor.

Harry stood rooted on the threshold of the fireplace, and watched as Draco shucked off his coat and flung it in the general direction of an armchair. “The guest room is back here, try not to touch anything that isn’t the bed. I suppose you’ll need…” Draco trailed off when he realised Harry wasn’t following him. He turned and frowned at him. “What?”

“I can’t stay here,” Harry whispered, inching back towards the fireplace.

Draco narrowed his eyes. “What? It’s not good enough for you? Sorry it’s not the Ritz, but the house-elf hasn’t been by this week.”

Harry shook his head and tried not to think about the shadows he knew were currently at his back. “It’s too dark here,” he replied, squeezing his eyes shut. “Too many shadows.” 

Draco blinked and looked around. He supposed it was rather dim. He remembered Harry’s reaction to his storage room at the office and nodded to himself. “Alright,” he said more to himself than to Harry. “Let me grab some things and we’ll go to your place.”

Harry’s eyes snapped open. “I don’t think that’s a good idea,” he said. “It’s not safe, Malfoy.”

“I don’t really care,” Draco replied without looking at him. He began summoning some things and putting them into a case. “My line of work has never been safe, and after today, I’m pretty sure I can handle whatever hovel you call home.” He closed the case and turned to Harry, who was looking pained. Draco flicked his gaze towards the fireplace behind Harry.

Harry’s shoulders fell in defeat and he stepped nearer to Draco. “I don’t have a Floo,” he said and stuck out his arm. Draco took it, and Harry Apparated them away.

—

Draco didn’t say a word about the way Harry’s flat was arranged. Until he entered the space he hadn’t fully grasped how deep Harry’s fear of the dark ran. The room was so bright it took him a couple of minutes for his eyes to adjust.

“I don’t-I can’t-It’s not good if there are shadows,” Harry explained with a sigh. “Or reflections.”

"I'm beginning to understand that," He looked around the room for a moment. “Why no reflections?”

Harry looked at the floor, but his voice was strong when he answered. “I don’t like to see myself. It messes with my head.”

“Fair enough,” Draco replied, sweeping the room again and landing on the makeshift desk. He pulled out his wand and enlarged it so two people could work side by side on it. Then he took a pillow from the bed and transfigured it into a cushion.

“Er, I could raise the desk, if you want? Then you could sit in a proper chair,” Harry offered, hovering by while Draco fished around his case.

“I’m fine sitting on the floor.” As if to prove his point, Draco dropped gracefully onto the cushion and opened his book.

“Didn’t think Malfoys would sit on the floor,” Harry murmured. Draco gave him a look then seemed to completely tune Harry out.

Harry turned away and tried to tidy the flat up to make it workable for two people. He started by separating the mattress into two, but with the space he had, they were still practically touching. While he worked, Draco was a reassuring but nerve-wracking presence. This was the longest time he’d spent with another person in months, and he wasn't sure how he felt about it. On the one hand it was nice not to be alone. But the idea that someone else could be there when something happened was terrifying.

But he supposed, after the disaster that was today, Draco had every right to think him in need of babysitting. He had apparently started a war, and who knew what else, and  _ then _ on top of that he had tried to seduce Draco bloody Malfoy. He was a fucking mess. At this point if Draco couldn’t figure out was wrong with him, he wouldn’t even have the right to be mad. After everything he had done, he deserved this.

Sensing that Harry was on the cusp of a downward spiral, Draco looked up from his notes and called out, “Potter.”

Harry snapped to attention. He looked down at his hands and realised he’d enlarged the blanket enough that it could easily cover his entire flat. He quickly shrunk it down and turned to Draco. “What?”

Draco held up a small notebook. “I need you to look through this and see if any of these situations relate to you.”

Harry nodded, glad to have something more complex to keep his mind occupied. He moved to sit next to Draco and took the book. “What is it?”

“Accounts of very old encounters with other realms. Not very wide in circulation as most of the stories turned out to be more fiction than fact. But you know what they say.”

“There’s a grain of truth in every story,” Harry replied as he opened the book.

Draco pretended to read for several moments while he watched Harry out of the corner of his eye. He could see his breathing was evening out and he was no longer shaking. Draco wasn’t even sure Harry was aware he had been. One thing that was becoming increasingly worrying to Draco was the speed and intensity with which Harry's moods changed. He wasn’t sure if that was a side effect of the curse, or if that was an underlying issue to begin with. Knowing Harry, he wouldn’t be surprised if it was the latter. He wondered how much of Harry was he seeing and how much was the curse.

He thought back to their earlier encounters. There was the obvious possibility that Harry hadn't wanted what he was offering. But the thing that frustrated Draco was that  _ he _ was the one that wanted. Not that it mattered, because this was a business transaction. One that he was currently royally fucking up.

Draco sighed and turned his attention back to his book. He couldn’t let himself get hung up on what-ifs. He had work to do.

—

The first morning after Draco came to stay with Harry, he woke up with the distinct feeling he was being watched. When he opened his eyes, Harry - Glamour worn off - was not a foot away from him, staring unashamed. Draco flung himself off the mattress and rolled onto the floor. Harry started to laugh, and Draco cursed at him  _ don’t do that _ ! 

Living with Draco wasn’t as strange as Harry thought it would have been. They soon came to the unspoken agreement that they would sleep in shifts. Harry had no concept of time, and rarely slept, so it was easy for him to work around Draco’s schedule. When they were both awake, they did their best to keep the conversation in the general area of civil. But when it slipped into a vague outline of disagreement, things got intense. Sometimes in more ways than one.

It had only happened a few times since the first incident in Draco’s office, but when the mood struck, Harry was relentless in pushing Draco’s buttons. It seemed like he was constantly trying to rile him up, always looking for a fight, always trying to push Draco over that edge. Draco couldn’t wrap his head around it, but he knew Harry wanted him to tell him what to do. To be honest, Draco had thought it would be the other way around, but this was so much better. In those moments, when Draco could get Harry to back down, the submission sent sparks of anticipation down his spine that made him shiver.

But Draco refused to take it where Harry wanted it to go. It wasn't the time or place for that, and Harry wasn't exactly himself. Draco wouldn't risk it.

For the most part they cohabited in a strange sort of harmony. But there was always that underlying tension of Draco trying to save Harry's life. So far nothing had worked, but things hadn’t gotten worse, either. 

He remembered Harry saying when he dreamed about the tunnel he would change, but as far as Draco could tell, nothing was different. Harry hadn’t reapplied his Glamour since it first faded, and Draco was quite familiar with the planes of his new face.

So when Draco woke up one morning to find Harry’s Glamoured face in his, he was instantly alert.

“What is it?” Draco asked.

“I think I’ve found something, but we need to go to it,” Harry replied. 

Harry hadn’t been out for the week and a half Draco had been there. All the rituals they had tried in the meantime were able to be performed within the flat. That made it easier to deal with the aftermath which was usually the shadow showing up and Harry passing out.

Draco scrubbed a hand over his face before pressing the heels of his palms into his eyes. He had a sinking feeling this would be dangerous. “Go where?”

“The mountain,” Harry answered. “Where I touched the tree.”

Draco’s head snapped up. “No,” he said.

Harry’s brows furrowed. “What do you mean, no?”

“You think I haven’t thought about that?” Draco asked, pushing Harry away so he could stand up. “Origin rites are too risky.”

Harry didn’t move but instead huffed, “I’m well aware of that, but nothing else has worked. It makes  _ sense _ .”

Draco couldn’t argue with him there. “Fine.” 

“Look, if you-” the words died on Harry’s lips. “Fine?” He had been expecting to fight Draco tooth and nail on this. In fact, he’d been looking forward to it for the last two hours, and now Draco was just giving in?

“Do you want me to do it or not?” Draco snapped.

Harry glared and crossed his arms over his chest. “That’s why I’m asking.”

“Well, you don’t seem very happy about it.” Draco finally got out of bed.

“It’s nothing.” Harry stomped over to the desk and plopped himself onto the cushion that served as a chair. He was well aware he was being childish, but he couldn’t stop this buzzing under his skin. He felt scratchy all over, and he wanted Draco to either make it stop or be itchy, too.

“Merlin and Morgana!” Draco muttered under his breath, and headed for the bathroom. It was too early to deal with this.

When Draco came out of the shower, Harry was still in a snit. He took one look at Draco in a pair of tight black jeans, dragonhide boots, and an oversized satin green button-down that he had tucked only into the front of his pants, and snorted. “I said we’re going to a mountain, not Dover Street.”

“Well, it’s not like we’re going to have to climb the bloody thing,” Draco sneered. “Are you ready to go or not?”

“I’ve been ready,” Harry snipped. “Some of us don’t take two hours to put on a shirt and jeans.”

“That’s because some of us don’t care if we look like we got our clothes out of the free-bin at a homeless shelter.”

“Yes, well  _ some of us  _ have better things to think about than whether or not our arse looks good in pair of jeans.” Harry took a step forward, fists clenching at his sides.

“And  _ some of us _ know how to multitask.”

“Well, some-” Harry began but Draco cut him off with a cry.

“For fuck’s sake, Potter! Are we going to go to this mountain or do you want to stand here and argue about your terrible fashion sense for the rest of the day? Salazar!”

“Fine, let’s go.” Without any other warning, Harry grabbed Draco and Apparated them.

“You could have splinched me!” Draco shouted when they landed.

“But I didn’t,” Harry replied already walking away.

Draco let out a very un-Malfoy like noise and stomped after Harry.

Harry stopped in front of the tree that had started this. It looked just the same as it had on the day he touched it— completely innocuous. If he was irritated before, he was fuming now. If he hadn’t come to this mountain, if he hadn’t touched this tree, if this Godforsaken tree that hadn’t made that damned wand in the first place! If this tree had just ceased to exist, he wouldn’t be in this mess. How many things had to go wrong for him to end up here? How unlucky did he have to be to be standing in front of this tree?

Suddenly disgusted with the whole thing, Harry turned back to Draco. “Here’s what we need to do.”

“I know what we need to do,” Draco snapped. Just because origin rites were dangerous and rarely used didn’t mean Draco hadn’t learned how to do them.

One of the reasons origin rites were so hard to do was that curses were just plain fickle. Curses weren’t static, they were almost like living things in their own right. They didn’t follow set rules, and they changed whenever they liked. Attempting to send a curse back to its source usually exacerbated the problem.

“Go stand by the tree, but don’t touch it until I say so,” Draco instructed. Harry did as he asked, but he didn’t look happy about it. Draco took a step back and pointed his wand at the tree, calling out its magical energy. He examined the main line of magic and separated the threads so he could see each a bit more clearly. He then turned to Harry.

Harry gasped when Draco pulled forth his magic. It was an odd sensation, a mixture of goosebumps and a limb falling asleep. He watched the threads as Draco pulled them apart, trying to find the one that held the curse.

“There,” Draco whispered. A perfect match for the tree. Slow and steady, he brought that one to the forefront. A thread of Harry’s magic was stronger than a normal person’s main line, which meant this was going to be even harder than he had thought.

“Okay, I’m going to touch the threads together, and at the same time you need to touch the tree. On my count, ready?” Harry nodded and Draco began, “One, two, three.”

Harry grasped the tree just as the threads intertwined with each other. Harry could feel them resisting, and then nothing. The lines of magic faded away and the only thing Harry could feel was the roughness of the tree bark beneath his fingers.

Harry blinked up at Draco. “Did it work?”

“Do you feel any different?” Draco asked.

“No,” Harry replied pulling away from the tree. “Let me…” He trailed off and pulled out his wand to take off the Glamour. Draco shook his head and Harry sighed. There was a crack in the distance that sounded like thunder. “We should get out of here.” Harry didn’t wait for a reply before Apparating away.

Draco waited a moment to gather his thoughts. If Harry had been in a mood before, he was going to be insufferable now. But at least there didn't seem to be any severe effects from the origin rite. Another thunderclap prompted Draco into action and he finally Apparated back.

The scene that Draco stumbled into was chaos. There were books and papers flung across the room and blood splattered the floor. Harry was laying on the ground, a gash across his stomach and the shadow hovering over him. The shadow shifted when Draco came in, almost as if it were looking at him. On the floor Harry gasped and Draco sprung forward, crouching down over Harry.

The shadow jumped back, but didn’t disappear. Draco worked to heal the wound as best as he could, but it was deep. They should probably go to St. Mungo’s, but he wasn’t sure if Harry could be moved right this second.

“Make it go away,” Harry wheezed out. “Go away...”

“I’m trying, I’m not exactly a Healer,” Draco answered, a tinge of panic in his voice. He glanced away, looking for the shadow, but it seemed to have disappeared. 

“No,” Harry murmured weakly. “It- It’s taking…” he trailed off.

Draco shook him a bit. “Don’t go to sleep.” Draco finished healing the wound up for the most part. When he looked up the shadow was right in front of him, a ghost-like limb reaching out for Harry. Draco aimed his wand at it and it reeled back before disappearing entirely.

Draco fell back onto his palms. They both sat there trying to catch their breaths for several long moments.

“What happened?” Draco asked when he felt he could.

“When I Apparated,” Harry began, squeezing his eyes shut. “It was there, I saw it. It tried to grab me and I-I guess I splinched myself.”

It attacked him while he was Apparating? Draco got to his feet a bit shaken, but determined. “You should go to Mungo’s.”

“No!” Harry tried to sit up but winced in pain. “I can’t.”

“Potter,” Draco sighed.

“Look, you’ve already healed it. There’s not much else they can do. Please?”

Harry looked so pitiful, Draco couldn’t help but give in. “Fine, but I’m going to get you some potions. You’ll be okay for five minutes, right?”

“Yes, thank you.”

Draco nodded and took a deep breath before Apparating away to Diagon Alley.

It wasn’t until he was heading out of the shop, a bag full of healing potions tucked under his arm, that he saw it. A stack of special edition  _ Daily Prophet _ s, the headlines blazing about sudden spurts of magic across the country. Draco bought one and hastily read the article.

There had been reports coming in that dark energy was cropping up, destroying anything its path. Draco remembered the warning about Fae magic, but this was different. The witnesses always mentioned seeing a shadow appear before the outbursts. Draco forgot to breath as he kept reading. And as of twenty minutes ago, the outbreaks seemed to have been coordinated, and now at least three people were dead. Every witness reported seeing a shadow beforehand. 

Draco finished reading and stuffed the newspaper in the bin before Apparating back to Harry’s flat.

“Where were you?” Harry asked from his new position on the bed.

“I told you I was going to get potions,” Draco said showing him the bag.

“Right, sorry,” Harry sighed and fell back onto the bed. It wasn’t like Draco had been gone that long, but with him out of sight, Harry had an alarming feeling that perhaps Draco wouldn’t come back.

Draco walked over and shoved a potion at Harry. Harry downed it with a grimace. Draco waffled about telling Harry what he had read in the  _ Prophet _ . He watched as Harry leaned back into the bed and screw his eyes shut as he tried to breath through the pain. He decided it was best not tell Harry what was happening just yet. “I need to go somewhere for awhile tomorrow.”

“Okay?”

“I mean, I need to go somewhere alone tomorrow,” Draco clarified.

Harry's eyes snapped open. “Why can’t I come?” Harry didn’t mean to whine, but the idea of Draco leaving him on his own again after what just happened was a little terrifying. The shadow had never been so aggressive before and what if it came back when he was alone? Caught him off guard?

“Because it’s not safe for you to Apparate,” Draco replied.

Harry nodded, suddenly ashamed for being so needy. He had been just fine on his own before Draco came, there was no reason he couldn’t be fine again. He closed his eyes and said in a cool voice, “Yeah, alright," before turning away from Draco.

Draco gave him a curious look but didn’t say anything else.

—

The clouds in Ireland always seemed more sinister than the ones in England. Draco supposed it was to balance out what seemed to be an entire country of near perfect scenery. But the clouds hung above him in warning, that if he should step out of line they would not hesitate to release their fury on him. He kind of liked that though, that the air and the land protected each other in this way.

County Cork was not an area Draco had visited before, and though he was unsure exactly where Harry had run into the witch (if she was one) that had helped him, he was fairly certain it would be in Gougane Barra. It was the only place he could see near Macroom that had any inkling of magical history. Looking around now, Draco could see why.

Gougane Barra was quiet, secluded. There was even a small island on the lake that housed an old church. It was the perfect town for a witch or wizard to hide away from hysterical Muggles 300 years ago.

Draco cast a discreet charm to detect any magic in the air. Unsurprisingly, most of it lay around the church. He recognised Harry’s magic, a knotted tangle of energy, but strangely the rest of it was so ancient that if he reached out to touch the lines of it, they would probably shatter. Which meant that whoever had helped him hadn’t used magic or had known how to cover it up. Draco wasn’t sure which one he preferred.

He didn't like that it had come to this, but something in the note in Harry's file nagged at him. Whatever had happened here, he was hoping the person that had helped him here could give him some insight.

He made his way into the nearest shop and sent the girl behind the counter a winsome smile as he perused the bottled drinks. He selected one that sounded interesting and then moved on to pick up a pack of crisps and a chocolate bar. Muggles may not be the most advanced of creatures but they knew their way around snack food.

“Alright?” Draco greeted, and the girl looked up him through her lashes. This was going to be easier than he thought.

“Yeah, thanks. You’re not from ‘round here, are you?”

Draco grinned. “What gave me away?” The girl laughed.

“The clothes,” she answered, taking his purchases. “What brings you here?”

“Oh, it’s nothing too interesting. I’m a surveyor,” Draco lied with ease. “So, I take it that means you don’t get many visitors through here?” 

“A surveyor? What exactly is that?” The girl waved the drink under the scanner but it wouldn’t ring up.

“I scout towns, see if they’re suitable for development or not.”

“Development,” the girl snorted. “Good luck with that.” She began to punch in the numbers by hand.

“Why’s that?”

“Too much history.” She rolled her eyes. “Too much history for an Aldi anyway. There was even a reporter here last month to do some story on the elders of the town, or so he said. But if you ask me, he wasn’t a reporter at all. I think he was just gathering information.”

Draco leaned onto the counter and whispered “No,” in a conspiratorial tone. The girl nodded and he asked her how so.

“Well,” she began leaning towards him and lowering her voice. “He didn’t talk to any of the oldies except for just one - Daft Doherty. Seems a bit suspect, if you ask me.”

Draco was interested. Perhaps it really had been a reporter, but from the way it sounded it was more than likely Harry. “What’s so daft about them?” 

“She still practises the old ways. Always banging on about fairies and the like; even lives in a little cottage down near the water because she says it’s got magic to it. It’s fine when you’re a young one, but when you get older it’s a bit sad.”

Draco lifted himself off the counter. “Well, that is interesting. How much do I owe you?” The girl blinked at the sudden change in topic but pulled back to look at his total. While she was looking at the screen, Draco let the tip of his wand slip from his arm holster and cast a minor  _ Obliviate _ on her. The girl started and blinked at him. 

Draco held out a Muggle money card to prompt the girl into action.

“Oh, right,” she said to herself, taking the card. She cashed him out and Draco took his belongs and left the shop, the girl staring after him.

He felt the briefest flicker of guilt at modifying her memory. He hated to meddle in people’s heads, but it was for the best. In his line of work it was wise not to leave too many loose ends.

Draco opened the chocolate bar and headed in the direction of the lake, trying his best to look like a hapless visitor. It didn’t matter much because no one was out in the middle of a week day. When he reached what he assumed to be the cottage the shop girl was talking about, he cast another detection charm.

There was absolutely no magical signature around the house other than Harry’s. So Draco could only come to the conclusion that whoever this woman was, she must have been a Muggle. Draco shoved the wrapper from his bar into the bag and shrunk the whole thing to fit in his pocket. He rapped on the door and a voice called out for him to wait.

A lithe old woman with grey hair piled high into a tight bun opened the door. She was standing straight and nearly as tall as Draco, her clothes were clean and pressed, and the nails of the hand he could see were neatly manicured. He was beginning to suspect he had the wrong house when the woman spoke.

“No, not another one.” She stepped back to close the door but Draco’s foot stopped her. “Move your foot or I’ll cut it off,” she threatened.

“Wait,” Draco interjected. “Why did you say another one?”

“Another wizard of course,” She snorted. She had had enough of dangerous wizards to last a lifetime and then some

“So, you’re a Squib.”

“Got it in one,” she mocked. “And I can’t help you. I’ve given up healing, so whatever thing from hell it is that you’ve got, you can turn round and take it back with you.” She pushed at the door, putting an uncomfortable pressure on Draco’s foot.

“I’m not here for your services,” Draco explained, pushing back on the door. “And I’m not above using an Imperius to get what I want, so why don’t you do us both a favour and let me in so we can talk about this nicely, hmm?”

Draco let his wand slide out into his hand the woman scowled at him for a moment more before moving back. Draco gave her a sarcastic thank you and entered the cottage. He looked around the small sitting room. It was elegantly decorated which showed a wealth beyond simple means. Draco wondered if she got the money for this from "healing." He sat himself in a chair facing the door.

“I must say when the shop girl told me you were called Daft Doherty, you weren’t quite what I was expecting.”

Mrs. Doherty sneered at him before sitting down herself, secretly satisfied Draco had picked the chair with the loose spring. Hopefully it would poke him good.

“Why don’t you tell me what it is you want?” she asked.

“Straight to business then, I like that.” Draco winked. “You know Harry Potter?”

She flinched, just a tiny bit, but Draco saw it. “I don’t,” she lied.

Draco sighed. “Mrs. Doherty, I’ve already told you I’m not above using Unforgivables, so please don’t lie. I don’t wish him any harm, if that’s what you think. I’m trying to help him.”

“Why should I believe you? You’re a Death Eater.” Did he think her stupid because she was a Squib? “Anyone would know a Malfoy a mile off.”

Draco didn’t waver. “Former Death Eater. The Dark Lord is dead, and if I really wanted to hurt Harry Potter, I wouldn’t be here talking to you about him.”

She couldn’t argue with that as much as she wanted to. Instead she said, "Then what do you want?"

“What did you do to him?” Draco asked. “With hot irons and nettles?”

“An old cure-”

He snorted. “Cure? Come now, call it what it is - torture.”

Mrs. Doherty straightened, heat rising to her cheeks. “‘Tis a centuries old practice to purify fairies.”

“It’s persecution is what it is. Someone shows signs of having magic and people took to branding them and what? Soaking them in stinging nettles. And you called yourself a healer?” he laughed without mercy. Mrs. Doherty opened her mouth to explain, to defend, to clarify, but Draco cut her off. “I don’t want to hear your excuses. I want to know what happened after you tried to beat the Dark out of him.”

Mrs. Doherty shook her head. She did not want to talk about this. She didn’t want to think about it, she didn’t want to remember it. In all her life she had never seen anything like it and she never wanted to again.

“Mrs. Doherty,” Draco prompted, rolling his wand between his fingers without looking at her.

“It came,” she whispered, throat tight with effort to hold back tears. “It came from the corner and it-it passed through me, ‘twas like a shadow and I could feel what Potter felt, I think. The sting, the searing, the emptiness, the dark. ‘Twas so empty. It hurt-’twas like trying to breathe air that was too thin.”

“What’s ‘it’? The shadow?” Draco asked.

She nodded, tears freely flowing now, she couldn’t stop them. “It tried to take him. It put its hands around his throat and lifted him up, but I-” she broke off to catch her breath. “I threw the water at it, and it disappeared.”

“The water?” Draco asked. “Holy Water?” Magic and religion crossed over more times than would make the average Christian comfortable. A prayer was essentially a spell, and Holy Water was only spelled water. Draco couldn’t accept that the solution could be so simple.

She shook her head. “Purification water. From the East.”

“That’s it?” Draco asked unable to hide his disbelief. “It’s just some common demon?”

Mrs. Doherty pulled out a handkerchief and wiped her eyes, and it took a moment for her to realise what Draco had said. She smiled. “You don’t know what it is,” she almost crowed. Draco shot her a look and she laughed. “High and mighty Pureblood wizard like yourself, and you’ve no clue what it is, do you? And after all that's been happening, the Dark Magic coming up across the country! You still haven't figured it out. Tell me, what did  _ you _ do to him to make it this bad?”

Draco didn’t bother to hide his irritation, Mrs. Doherty wasn’t worth it. “If  _ you _ know what it is, then why didn’t you tell Potter?”

“He left before I got the chance. When it appeared, I fainted. When I woke up, he was gone,” she explained. She would have told Harry what it was, she didn’t want him to suffer, but she had no way of getting in contact with him.

“Well then why don’t you tell me what it is?” Draco suggested, chin jutted out in displeasure, a move he knew made him look like his father.

“A wraith of course.”

“A wraith?” Draco repeated. “You must have hit your head. I’ve seen that thing with my own eyes, and there’s no way it’s just a wraith.”

Wraiths were smart but simple creatures. They devoured souls and moved on. They were impatient - they wouldn’t stalk Harry like this just to get a taste of his soul, it was too drawn out. Unless...an alarming thought hit Draco. What if Harry had more than one soul? Given Harry’s history it wasn’t inconceivable, but definitely changed the playing field.  

Mrs. Doherty smirked, she knew exactly what Draco was thinking. “Wizards and witches are all alike. You make everything more complicated than it needs to be. Why use a quill when you can just use a pen? Sometimes answers are simple.”

“But I’ve seen wraiths, and that’s not one.” Wraiths were shadows for sure, but they had forms. The shadow he saw with Harry wasn’t corporeal. It hung in the air like smoke. 

“You think there’s only one type of wraith? That they’re all just like Dementors?” She laughed again. “They’re twisted creatures, they can latch on to certain entities. Change them. Claim them. Pick them apart, take what they want, put them back together. Incorporate. Do you understand what I’m saying?”

“You mean to say that the wraith that is terrorising Harry Potter is trying to  _ turn _ him into one?” 

“No,” Mrs. Doherty shook her head, a grave look in her eyes. “I’m saying they’re already fused. I’m saying it came  _ from _ him. That’s why there’s no shape.” Draco closed his eyes and took a breath. “But you already knew that part, didn’t you?”

“I didn’t want it to be true,” he admitted.

She tilted her head, sympathy softening her mouth. “Then you know what it wants.”

It wasn’t a question but Draco nodded anyway. “I do.”

“There are no easy solutions to this,” she said. “And he doesn’t have much time. And the outbursts will get worse.”

“I know,” Draco said standing. “Thanks for your time. I regret having to alter your memory a bit, but…” he trailed off with a shrug.

“There’s no need for that,” Mrs. Doherty told him. “Who am I to tell?”

He considered for a moment, remembering the village nickname for her. “Fair point,” Draco said stowing his wand. “I’d rather you live with the knowledge of this: I may be a Death Eater, but at least I never willingly tortured anyone.”

“I was helping them,” she whispered.

“You were helping yourself,” Draco said. She turned away, colour high on her cheeks. “I trust you won’t speak of this then?”

Mrs. Doherty didn’t stand, but looked up at Draco with hard eyes. “Only if I never see you again, Mr. Malfoy.”

“It would be a pleasure,” Draco replied, voice so thick with false sincerity Narcissa would weep with pride to hear it. “I’ll see myself out.”

Outside the cottage Draco took a steadying breath. The discovery gave him some respite, but he couldn’t help but be angry at how he had missed something so simple, so obvious. And from a woman who made her living off selling suffering and calling it a cure. It almost made him sick.

But now that he knew what it was he was dealing with he could move forward with a more definitive plan. Still, what Mrs. Doherty had said was true. It wouldn’t be easy and the stakes were higher than Draco had accounted for. If he failed, it wasn’t just Harry that would be in harm's way.

Draco shook himself from his thoughts. There was no point in ruminating on the possibilities of something he hadn’t even tried. He set off back towards town, paused and turned back towards the cottage, wand drawn. He sent a powerful wilting charm at the begonia’s beside the door and walked away.


	5. Chapter 5

When Draco got back to Harry's flat, he found him reading a book and wearing the Glamour. “You look normal.”

Harry’s expression faltered. “Thanks, I guess? You look normal, too.”

“I look exceptional,” Draco corrected, and Harry rolled his eyes. “Everything alright?" Harry nodded. “Good.” Draco paused, and Harry felt his hesitation.

“What is it?” Harry asked.

Draco sighed and decided in for a Sickle, in for a Knut. “I know what’s wrong with you. And it’s not good.”

Harry’s whole body jerked without his permission. He rose from the floor and started for Draco. “What is it? How did you find out? Are you sure?”

Draco gave him a look that told him the barrage of questions was not appreciated. “I went to see the woman who ‘helped’ you in Ireland,” Draco began with barely contained disgust. “Turns out she knew exactly what it was, but you left before she got a chance to tell you.”

Harry would blush if he could. He had left Mrs. Doherty passed out on the ground, after making sure she was still alive, of course. He still didn’t know how she had gotten there, but he hadn’t wanted to stick around to find out.

“How did you find her?” Harry asked.

“It wasn’t hard, and it’s not important,” Draco said. “The important thing is that I know what’s wrong with you and I know how to get rid of it.”

“So what is it?”

Draco sighed. “A wraith.” Draco held up a hand as soon as he finished, cutting off whatever it was Harry was going to protest with. “There’s more than one type of wraith, it seems. You were right; it is you. Or was you. I’m not entirely sure on the dynamics. The point is that it came from you, and it's trying to get back into you. Or you into it.”

Harry didn’t speak for a few long moments, and Draco, for once, didn’t push him to. Harry couldn’t begin to comprehend the feeling of relief that flooded him. He  _ knew  _ what it was. Even if that knowledge came with the bitterness that it  _ was  _ him, or came from him, or was a part of him, or whatever. Which confirmed what he had known all along: If he had been a better person, a stronger person, this wouldn’t have happened. He had caused this, and he deserved this.

His eyes flicked to Draco’s and he found himself being watched the same way Charlie watched his dragons. Looking down, Harry realised why - he was clenching his fists so tightly, the nails had drawn blood.

Harry swallowed and flexed his fingers, pretended the blood wasn't there. “What does it want?”

“It wants what any wraith wants." Draco stepped forward and took Harry's hands in his, healing the cuts. "To consume. But because it came from you, it  _ is _ you-”

Harry’s eyes snapped up to Draco’s. “It’s not me,” he hissed. Maybe it came from him, but it couldn’t  _ be him _ . He was Harry James Potter, son of...

“Yes, well-”

Harry jerked his arms, and Draco stumbled forward. Draco’s face was so close that he could feel his breath on his lips. Harry growled, “It’s. Not. Me.”

Draco’s face remained impassive, and when he spoke it wasn’t much above a whisper. “Let go, Harry.”

Harry pulled back without hesitation, Draco’s words like ice down his shirt. He blinked and looked around the room, as if just coming back to himself. Draco glanced at the blood on his palms, and Harry spelled it away. He made no apology, and Draco found he didn’t really mind.

“As I was saying,” Draco continued in a murmur, eyes never leaving Harry. “Because its origin is unique, the circumstances require a more complicated procedure.”

“What is it?”

“In theory, it’s simple: a purification ritual. Mrs. Doherty mentioned she threw purification water at it, but just dowsing you in Holy Water isn’t going to cut it. One of the strongest rituals requires you to be submerged in the water at the right time, with the right artifacts. Lucky for us that right time is coming up soon.”

Harry nodded. “So, what do we need to do?”

“First, I’m going to Italy, and when I return we’ll need to go to a pure water source, in Tibet,” Draco explained.

Harry interrupted him. “What do you mean  _ you’re _ going to Italy?”

“I mean I’m going to Italy.”

“No, I mean, why didn’t you say we?” Harry asked.

“Because you’re not,” Draco replied as if he were speaking to a child.

Harry shook his head. “No, I’m coming.”

“Listen,” Draco began but Harry didn’t let him get any further.

“No, you listen,” Harry snarled, his voice lowering. “I have spent too long not knowing what was happening to me, trying to fix it, and failing. I am not risking the one person that knows how to help me fucking off to Italy and something happening. I am coming with you, Malfoy, and you can try to stop me, but I think we both know how that will end.”

Draco sized Harry up. He had a point and they both knew it. Harry Potter could not be stopped when he made up his made about something, and he’d made up his mind about this.

“Fine,” Draco relented. “But you can’t complain about what we’re going to do.”

“Is it Dark?” Harry asked, and Draco rolled his eyes.

“I think we are way past you being worried about that, but no, this one is not Dark. But it’s not exactly moral either.” Harry narrowed his eyes and Draco actually laughed.

“What’s so funny?” Harry gritted out.

“Here you are, literally being dragged to Hell, and you’re worried about whether the way to save you is  _ Dark _ . You’re so predictable, it’s laughable.”

Harry crossed his arms and glared. “Just because I’m dying, doesn’t mean I have to sacrifice my morals.”

“Merlin, you really would rather die than do something you find less than ethically savory.”

Harry huffed. Trust Draco to completely miss the point. “There’s no point in living if you’re not going to do it the right way. Trust me, I’ve been dead before.”

Now Draco crossed his arms and took in Harry with a curious expression. “Have you ever considered that your morals are rooted in a deep misunderstanding of the Dark Arts?” At the look on Harry’s face Draco laughed again. “Of course you haven't. It’s never even crossed your mind that Dark doesn’t necessarily mean evil. I bet you don’t even realise you use Dark magic all the time.”

Harry sniffed. “I won’t say I’ve never used Dark magic, but I certainly don’t use it all the time.”

“You don’t know anything about magical theory, do you?” Draco asked. He didn’t mean for it to be mocking, but of course Harry took it that way.

“I know enough,” Harry replied, lips pursed in a sneer to rival Draco’s.

Draco rolled his eyes at the display. “Clearly not. Magic is about  _ intent _ . If your intent is to do harm to another person, then that spell becomes Dark. Why do you think jinxes and hexes are considered Dark magic? Their intent is to hurt.”

Harry thought about it for a moment and realised that, loathe as he was to concede it, Draco was right. So he took another route. “Well, it’s not like I go about hexing strangers on the street. Pompous arseholes on the other hand,” Harry said with a pointed look.

“You’re not listening, Harry.” Draco was smiling now, something Harry found himself rather liking. “It’s about intent. Not all harm is physical, for example: lies.”

Watching the gears turn in Harry’s head was rather enjoyable. “The Glamour,” Harry said and Draco nodded.

“There you go. You know, you’re not as stupid as you look. With a little remedial education, you might even become a functioning member of society.”

“And you’re just as prattish as you look. You know, if you were able to take that stick just a little bit out of your arse, you might be almost tolerable company.”

This time when Draco laughed, Harry joined him. It felt familiar to exchange barbs with Draco, and the tension of the past couple of weeks melted away.

“Alright, Malfoy, I get it,” Harry yielded. “But you still haven’t told me what we’re going to do in Italy.”

“How about I’ll tell you when we get there. Less time for you to complain about it that way.” Draco shifted in his seat. “Speaking of, how the hell are we going to get you to Italy?"

Harry's brow furrowed "Why can't we Portkey?"

Draco shook his head. "Not safe. You'll be too exposed, and the wraith could take you in transit. Same goes for Floo and Apparating." 

“We could drive,” Harry offered.

“Absolutely not.” Draco crossed his arms. “I suppose we could fly.”

“Oh yeah, a plane could work.”

“Salazar! An aeroplane, you mean? Are you insane? I meant a  _ broom _ .”

Harry squinted at him. “Am I insane? You want to fly by broom to Italy? From here?”

“What other choice do we have, seeing as you can’t Apparate, Floo, or Portkey! Merlin, how are we going to get you to China?” Draco rubbed at his temples with his forefingers.

“We have to go to China, too?"

"Pay attention, Potter. That's where the water is. But I'll be damned if I know how to get you there."

"I already told you, we could drive or take an airplane.”

“I’d rather die.”

“It is actually my death we are risking here,” Harry reminded him.

“I’ll take the chance,” Draco replied without looking up. He took a deep breath and sat back up. “Alright, we’re going to fly there,  _ on brooms _ , but we’ll need to leave today to make up for time. I'll have to think about how to get Tibet. ”

Harry huffed, "Fine, but it's your arse on the line."

“I'll take my chances. Give me about three hours to sort things out. You have a broom?” He looked around as if he had somehow missed one in the time he'd been there.

“Yeah, I actually have a few prototypes that are better for long distances if you want to borrow one.” They were at Grimmauld Place, but Harry thought he could risk it for five minutes.

“Of your own design?” Draco asked with raised brows. Draco knew that Harry was an impressive broom maker, so to ride a prototype would be thrilling under normal circumstances. Even though this wasn’t exactly a normal circumstance, he wasn’t going to let the opportunity pass by.

“Yeah, but they’re solid brooms. Look, I was just offering.” Harry threw his lip out in annoyance, completely misreading the situation.

Draco thought if he rolled his eyes anymore today, they’d get stuck. “I’ll take one. My broom's good for speed, but it’s harder on distance.” 

Harry nodded and Draco Apparated away. 

—

Harry hesitated on the pathway outside of Grimmauld Place. He knew he should at least move into the garden so he didn’t look like a mad person staring at a house that no one but him could see.

He hadn’t been back here since the night he had left. It had been the night Hermione told him she was pregnant, and he decided right then that he had to go. He’d left Ron and Hermione’s place, shoved some things in a bag, sent them a note, and left as quickly as if someone were chasing him.

With a steadying breath, he entered the garden and made his way up the path. The door swung open before he could place a hand on it. Kreacher stood there, looking up at him with disappointed eyes.

“What are you doing here?” Harry asked. “You should be at Hogwarts.”

“Kreacher felt Master at the wards,” Kreacher replied.

“Felt me at the wards…? Oh fuck,” Harry hissed and pushed past Kreacher into the house. “Kreacher get my Invisibility Cloak.” Harry had left it behind in his haste to get out the first time, but he wouldn't make the same mistake twice.

He raced up the stairs and heard Kreacher pop up at the top of them before he saw him. Harry tripped into his work shop, Kreacher trailing behind him. He grabbed a  broom for Draco and shoved it into the shrunken expandable bag he kept in his pocket.

“Master, someone is coming through,” Kreacher said.

“I know,” Harry hissed and snatched the cloak from Kreacher's hands.

“Harry?” came Hermione’s voice from downstairs. “Harry, are you here?”

“Go downstairs and tell her you’re here to clean the place up,” Harry instructed in a whisper. Kreacher gave him a long suffering look but popped out of existence. Harry threw on the cloak and recast his Notice-Me-Not before heading for the stairs. Even with the distraction of Kreacher, and his newfound talent for moving silently, it may not be enough for Hermione. He held his breath for good measure.

At the bottom of the stairs he could hear Hermione grilling Kreacher. “Yes, but why are you here to clean  _ now _ , Kreacher? Have you heard from Harry?”

Harry moved down the hall and out of the door before he could hear the reply. He was just outside the gate when Hermione appeared in the doorway.

“Harry!” she called out into the street. For a moment he thought she had seen him, but her eyes slid away and scanned the street for any signs of him. “Harry!” The hysteria in her voice broke something in Harry, and he almost took the cloak off. But then he got a look at her. He saw she had that tell-tale pregnant glow, and even though her eyes were red-rimmed, she looked beautiful. She looked alive. Harry couldn’t put this on her.

“Goddamn you, Harry Potter,” she whispered and headed back into the house.

Harry had to hang onto the iron-wrought fence to stop himself from falling to the ground. He deserved this, he deserved her damnation. He took one last look at the house and headed back towards his flat, trying to convince himself he had made the right decision.

—

By the time Draco returned, Harry had mostly managed to put the incident with Hermione out of his head. He had convinced himself, not for the first time, that Hermione and Ron’s ignorance was for the better. Otherwise he was sure they’d be right behind him on the way to Italy. He couldn’t put them through the pain of watching Harry mutate into this monster. He wanted them to remember him how he was. He needed someone to remember who he was. 

"Have you got everything?” Draco asked.

“Yeah, just here.” Harry pulled the shrunken bag out of his pocket and he fished out the two brooms, tossing one to Draco. “Do you know how far it is? Also where in Italy are we going?”

“About eleven-hundred,” Draco said, taking the broom from Harry. “We’re going to Rome, sort of.”

“Sort of?” Harry asked but Draco didn’t respond, as he was too engrossed in inspecting the broom. Harry huffed, but continued, “Well, these brooms can get us to sort of Rome in about ten hours, though I suspect we’ll need breaks.”

“We’ll be stopping over in Switzerland,” Draco informed him without looking up.

“Isn’t time kinda of the essence here?”

Draco’s eyes snapped up from the broom. “If I recall, I didn’t exactly ask you to come along. There’s no way I’m flying  _ by broom _ to Italy with only toilet breaks in between, so if that’s not good enough for you then you can just stay right here and I’ll Portkey there and be done with it.”

Harry looked cowed, but he definitely wasn’t happy about it. Draco continued to gather his things up without a word while Harry shifted from foot to foot.

“Do you need to use the loo before we go?” Draco asked giving Harry a knowing look. Harry shook his head. “We’re not stopping for at least two hours if we want to make it to Bern at a decent hour.”

Harry glared at him. “I’m not a kid, Malfoy, if I need to go I can hold it.”

Draco rolled his eyes but said nothing more.

—

Draco had always liked flying just to fly. He heard that Muggles did the same but with their cars, they called it “going for a drive.” He couldn’t understand why anyone would want to be trapped in a small metal box barreling down a road for any more time than was needed, but he did understand the feeling of just wanting to go.

He also had to admit it was kind of nice to do it with someone else. Even though he and Harry couldn’t exactly talk while they flew, it was comforting to have him nearby. Every once in awhile, one of their competitive streaks would flare up and they would race for a bit. There was no winner, it was purely something to break the monotony of flying on a cloudy day.

Two and a half hours in, Draco needed a break. He signaled to Harry and they flew lower and slower, trees coming into view below the clouds. Draco cursed his luck. Of course they’d end up over a forest instead of a town.

Harry landed with ease next to him and hopped off the broom without any sign of strain. His hair was, of course, in disarray, but somehow the windswept look was working for him. His Glamour was fading, so his cheekbones were starting to protrude. He looked a little dangerous and Draco found it more than a little arousing.

Harry was looking at him with a challenging expression and Draco realised he had been staring too long. “You look ridiculous.” Draco could have hit himself for how stupid he sounded.

“Did we land so that you could insult me, or do you have business to attend to?” Harry snapped. He wouldn’t put it past Draco to break just for that, to be honest.

“I have a quota to meet,” Draco said but turned away and headed into the forest.

Harry watched him go, annoyance fading to delight with each hobbled step Draco took away from him. It was a gleeful realisation that Draco had forgotten to cast a cushion charm on his broom. It was almost poetic - Draco was such a pain in the arse most of the time, now he got to have one. Harry took care of his own business before inspecting their brooms. Draco’s was still a prototype, so he took a little more care going over that one. For some reason, it seemed to be tugging in his hands.

He was at step four of seven on his checklist, trying to figure out how the broom could have suddenly developed sentience, when he heard the thumping. Harry tensed, drawing his wand. He turned towards the sound and saw Draco running at him full speed, eyes wide in terror, yelling at him. Draco pointed his wand at Harry, and Harry almost put up a shield when Draco’s broom flew out of his hand.

Draco snatched the broom from the air and mounted in one swift movement. It was then that Harry saw the boar. It looked straight at him with no sign of slowing. Harry yelped and stuck his hand out for his broom, running and mounting in much the same way Draco had.

When they were both a safe distance off the ground, Draco started in on Harry. “What were you doing with my broom! Did you see that thing? I could have been killed and it would have been all your fault! How does it feel to be an accessory to attempted homicide, hm?”

Harry laughed, throwing his head back and almost falling off his broom with the force of it.

“Oh, is this funny to you? My untimely demise?” Draco asked, letting go of the broom to cross his arms. They slowed to a stop, hovering in place. “How am I supposed to live knowing I could have been killed by a  _ boar _ ? How common.”

Harry, still laughing, managed to say, “So you’re just mad it was an ordinary animal?”

“Well, if I’m going to be mauled to death by an animal, it should at least be something worthy of killing me. Like a dragon or a basilisk.” Draco didn’t like the idea of how that would look on the front page of the  _ Daily Prophet _ :  _ Former Death Eater Draco Malfoy Murdered by Boar _ . It really didn’t have much weight to it.

“God, you’re such a Slytherin,” Harry said around his laughter. Draco shot Harry a look which only caused him to sink deeper into his mirth. But Draco found himself dragged into it, a deep laugh bubbling up and over. He supposed near death experiences could make almost anything funny.

When they had calmed down and Draco turned to Harry to say something, he started in surprise. The Glamour had slipped even more and now Harry’s eyes had changed into that cutting amber. If Harry noticed Draco’s reaction, he didn’t let on, but Draco had a feeling he did. He looked away, unusually embarrassed. 

Draco was recasting the Point Me spell when he felt the cushioning charm. He turned to see Harry looking at him with raised brows, before he shot ahead without warning.

Draco shook his head in amusement before following after him.

—

It was dark by the time they reached Bern, and Harry was getting anxious. He wanted to land, to go inside where it was bright, where he could see if something was coming for him. But he couldn’t tell Draco that.

The rest of the ride had been uneventful with no added breaks. They simply flew in a straight line.

At long last, their destination came into view. The wizarding community of Bern was tiny, so Draco had made arrangements with a Muggle hotel that was up to his standards. He pointed at a rooftop with a helicopter pad to Harry, and they descended.

“I’m not sure how you’re going to get down from here,” Draco admitted. “If you can’t Apparate.”

Harry quirked a brow and jerked his thumb over his shoulder. “The lift?”

“Right.” Draco nodded. “You might want to recast that Glamour, first.”

“It’s okay,” Harry said, pulling his expandable bag out his pocket and reaching in. “I have an invisibility cloak.”

Draco narrowed his eyes. “Of course you do.” Harry almost laughed at the look on Draco’s face. “Meet me at the check in counter then.” With that Draco threw his broom at Harry and Apparated from sight.

Harry decided it might look strange if the lift came up to the roof for no reason, so he decided to take the stairs. The stairwell was not as well lit as Harry would have liked it to be. He took the stairs fast; more than once, he tripped on his cloak and almost fell. When he reached the door to the lobby, he didn’t bother to see if anyone was watching before he threw himself out of it. Leaning against the door and trying to catch his breath, he took in his surroundings. He was in the lift bank and it seemed no one had seen the door open. He steadied himself and headed for the lobby. 

Harry found Draco flirting with the man behind the check-in counter. There wasn’t any other word for it, the way the Draco was leaning on the counter, and the decidedly unprofessional smile the worker was giving him. It was all very obvious, and Harry absolutely hated it.

He tried to push the feeling away, but it came back in fuller force. It was hot and resentful and so primal Harry couldn’t even grasp it completely. He felt as if it was the only thing he was meant to feel, that Draco Malfoy was not meant to be flirting with the check-in boy. Harry could tell the moment Draco realised he was in room. He straightened all at once and gave the man behind the counter one last easy smile.

Draco moved past him and Harry followed, still struggling to rein in his temper. The was no reason for him to be so angry about Draco flirting with another man. He had no claim over him. He could hardly tolerate being in the same room with him, so why had this  _ thing _ in Harry decided that it owned Draco?

The lift ride was quiet and Harry didn’t take off his cloak, but Draco could feel him. He had felt his magic sparking in the lobby. Draco didn’t know why, but he did know the last thing he needed was a wraith appearing while they were trapped in a lift.

When they entered the suite, Harry immediately tensed beside Draco. “Is something the matter?” Draco asked, voice calm.

Harry took the cloak off and stepped forward to peek more into the room. “It’s too dark in here.”

Draco sighed, the day catching up with him. “The lights are all on.”

“It’s too dark!” Harry repeated, panic seizing him as he rounded on Draco. The room was decorated with opulence in mind, and the lighting was dim at best. There were shadows and reflections all around. Everywhere Harry looked, he thought he saw it hovering. “There’s too many shadows, too many mirrors. There’s too many places it could hide!”

“Okay, Harry,” he said in a firm voice. “We’ll up the lights.” He pulled out his wand and spelled the lights brighter. “Is that better?”

The room was almost glittering for how bright Draco had made it. Harry swallowed and nodded minutely, a little ashamed and a little relieved.

“There’s only one bed,” Harry pointed out.

“You’re sleeping on the couch,” Draco said walking past him.

Draco went into the bathroom where his toiletries had been laid out for him. He prepared for bed automatically, his mind still stuck on Harry. Something had set Harry off in the lobby. Perhaps another reaction to the lighting? He sometimes forgot that Harry was afraid of the dark, because his new normal was just bright.

And then there was his own reaction, as well. Draco had felt an unfamiliar desire to soothe Harry. It went beyond a platonic gesture towards a client. It was protective. He  _ wanted _ Harry to feel comfortable.

When Draco emerged from the bathroom, Harry was already asleep on the couch. His unlaced booted feet were hanging off the edge, clearly having given up in the middle of taking them off. Draco crawled into bed and tried to get comfortable. He tossed and turned for a few moments before sitting up with a sigh. He grabbed his wand from under the pillow and spelled off Harry’s boots before falling back into the bed in drifting into sleep.

  
  



	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> CW: Mild Dub Con, Consent issues/discussion

It was dark when Harry opened his eyes. So dark that he thought maybe he hadn’t opened them at all. He was standing, but he couldn't see where. He waited and waited for his eyes to adjust to the light, but they never seemed to get there. He felt for his wand and found it in his pocket, and took it out intending to cast a Lumos. It was then that he felt something come up behind him.

Harry didn’t startle at the arrival of the presence. He turned and reached a tentative hand out to touch it. The feeling of the thing burned black on his skin. It was as if it were sucking the light from him, quick and sizzling water on a flame. A voice came, as murky as the air around him.

_ Take him _ .

It bounced off of the walls and came back, broken but clear.

_ Take him. _

Harry couldn’t tell if the voice was talking about him or to him, but he decided it didn’t matter because there was no one else around  _ but _ him. Except for whatever was touching him. But, he remembered, that was probably him too.

_ Take him _ .

The voice was urgent now, and Harry felt panic rising. He turned away from the thing and it grabbed him, burning him. Harry hissed, ripping his arm free, and ran in the opposite direction.

_ You must take him. _

The thing behind him moved with him; he pumped his legs faster but it never fell any further behind. His breathing was ragged. He could see now that he was in a tunnel. He’d been here before. The realisation caused Harry to slow down. Why should he run? The only thing on the other side was a consciousness that was almost as bad as this.

It was getting lighter - or maybe his eyes were finally getting used to the dark - but even as he ran, there was no end in sight. He could still hear the voice but he couldn’t tell if it was still speaking or just an echo. Then again, it didn’t really matter because he could still fucking hear it. He  _ hated _ it. He hated that voice more than anything that had happened to him since he ended up in this place the first time. Why wouldn't it  _ shut up? _

Harry pushed forward, spurred on by the idea that if he ran hard enough, far enough, he wouldn’t have to hear that voice anymore. As the tunnel lightened  the features of the tunnel came into view. But the more he saw, the more he wished he couldn't. Harry closed his eyes and kept running until-

He opened his eyes and squinted at the brightness of the room. He took in the unfamiliar surroundings and immediately spotted a mirror on the wall at the foot of the couch he was lying on. He needed it gone. He found his wand and pointed it at the mirror, intending to vanish it when he saw something in the reflection. He stood and the whole picture came into view. There was Draco Malfoy, lying bed, and Harry's own twisted face grinning.

Mirror Harry walked over to Draco's sleeping figure and raised his eyebrows at Harry.

Harry turned away and found the mirror wasn’t lying to him. Draco really was in bed, looking for all the world like he wasn’t trapped in the room with a Dark creature. Harry heard the voice echo again.

_ Take him. _

—

Someone was watching him. The brightness of the room had kept him from dozing off completely, and he felt eyes on him. Harry, he remembered. He had almost fallen back asleep when a thought stuck him. If Harry was in the room, so was the wraith. Now that was cause for alarm. Draco made no move to show he was awake, as he didn’t want to lose the upper hand in case it turned out to be the wraith watching.

He didn’t hear them move closer, but he felt it, and knew it was Harry that was standing over him, staring. Draco gripped his wand under the pillow before opening his eyes.

Harry didn’t even blink when Draco looked at him. Draco kept his voice soft and even when he spoke. “What do you want, Harry?”

Harry cocked his head a bit, an animalistic movement, a predator regarding its prey. “You wanted to fuck that man at the lobby desk,” Harry said without preamble.

It was such an unexpected comment that for a second he didn’t know what Harry was talking about. Draco thought for a moment and said in a measured tone, “I thought about it.” Harry said nothing, waiting for an explanation Draco didn’t know how to give. Finally he settled on, “Why does it matter?”

Harry’s nostrils flared. “I don’t like it.”

“Why?”

“I don’t know,” Harry answered, more angry with himself at this point than anything. “But I don’t like it.”

Unsure of exactly what he was dealing with, Draco did his best to keep his tone soothing. “Harry, did you have a dream?”

“Yes,” Harry bit out. “Don’t change the subject.”

Draco rose at his leisure and swung his legs over the side of the bed to face Harry, but he didn’t get up. “Can you tell me why it matters?”

“I don’t want you to do it,” Harry answered instantly, surprising himself.

Draco knew he was playing a dangerous game, but he had to be sure. “But I want to do it.”

Harry reached out and grabbed Draco’s jaw with bruising force and hissed, “No.”

“Harry,” Draco said with more calm than he felt. He reached up and pulled Harry’s hands away from his face. “The dream, you said things changed when you had a dream.”

“So what?”

Draco fought for the right words, unsure of what could set Harry off. “Don’t you think you’re acting a little rashly?”

Harry snarled, pulled his hand from Draco’s, and jumped back, hunching against a wall. He glared at Draco even though he knew Draco was right. He was being unreasonable.

But every nerve in his body was alight with anger at the the idea of Draco with someone else. That voice he couldn’t stop hearing screamed at him to seize Draco, take hold of him and break him down to nothing. Harry shook his head as the thought kept returning louder and louder. If only he just reached out and touched Draco…“Shut up!” he yelled.

“Impulse control,” Draco said more to himself than Harry. It made sense, as wraiths didn’t care about social constructs. They took what they wanted without question. Draco could handle this. He just had to be the one in control, work Harry through whatever this was that set him off. Make him see reason. “Harry, are you upset because I wanted to sleep with him or because he wanted to sleep with me?”

Harry’s fists clenched at his sides. He could feel the angry crackle of magic that was sparking around him, threatening to attack, but couldn’t find it in himself to care. “Both,” Harry hissed. “You don’t belong to him.”

Draco blinked. “And do I belong to you?”

“No,” Harry replied, and Draco was more confused than ever.

“What is it that you want?”

“I need you,” Harry replied and nothing he had ever felt before had ever been truer. He moved away from the wall in the blink of an eye. He grabbed Draco by the hair and pulled his head back. He took a moment to admire the strong pulse he could see beneath the skin. The dipped his head down to run his tongue across it, groaning at the taste of Draco’s skin.

Draco gasped, hands coming up to grip at Harry’s hips in surprise. The sensation of Harry’s mouth on his neck wasn’t unwelcome or unpleasant, but he couldn’t allow this to continue.

“I’m going to fuck you,” Harry murmured against his skin.

Draco couldn't say he was surprised. They had been dancing around this ever since Harry had taken the Veritaserum. But Draco hadn't given in the numerous times Harry had tried this before, and he shouldn’t even be considering it now, not when Harry was half out of his mind with wraith magic. But the fucked up this was, he  _ was _ . 

“No,” Draco said firmly, and Harry pulled back, scowl etched into his face.

“No?”

“No,” Draco repeated and pushed Harry off of him with careful movements. At least Harry was listening to him. “You need me?”

“Yes,” Harry exhaled.

“Then you have to listen to me. You have to do what I say. Can you do that?”

Harry only wanted that, if it meant that we would get Draco. He could listen. He  _ wanted _ to listen. He nodded in ernest.

“Get on your knees,” Draco said. Harry bowed his head and did as he was told without complaint, and Draco felt a rush of power. He took Harry’s face in his hand with deceptive gentleness. “Is this what you want, Harry?” Harry nodded, but wouldn’t meet Draco’s gaze. He felt Draco’s grip tighten and leaned into it, eyes sliding shut without his permission.

“Look at me.” Harry opened his eyes and looked up at Draco. His face was blank but his eyes were heated. “Use your words.”

Harry swallowed. “I want it,” he whispered.

Draco decided that was good enough for now. He let go of Harry’s chin and stood. He slipped his pyjama bottoms off, shivering at the feel of the silk brushing his interested dick.

“You’re going to put my cock in your mouth and get me hard. You’re not going to suck. You suck, we stop and start over. Do you understand?” Harry nodded. “I need to hear you say it.”

“I understand,” Harry said.

“Good.” Draco nodded. “Go ahead then. Watch your teeth.”

Harry leaned forward, bracing his hands on Draco’s knees and took Draco's cock into his mouth. He focussed in on the heavy weight of it resting on his tongue, the girth of it stretching out his lips, the heat of it flooding his mouth. He breathed noisily through his nose and willed himself to stay still, to listen to Draco, to stay in control.

“That’s good, Harry,” Draco murmured. “You’re doing so well.”

Harry shivered at the praise. He was in control. He could do this. Draco’s dick was steadily filling in his mouth. The harder it got the harder it was for Harry not to suck it. In a flash of desire, he curled his tongue to trace a vein that had been pressing against it.

Draco’s expression hardened. “Harry,” he said in warning. It wasn’t quite a suck, but it wasn’t letting it rest either. Harry looked down in shame and relaxed his tongue. “That’s better,” Draco said. “I know you’re trying hard. Just a little bit more, I think you can do that, don’t you?” Harry nodded, careful that jostling of the dick in his mouth wasn’t construed as sucking. “Good. Look at me, Harry.”

Harry raised his eyes, and Draco gave him a searching look. Harry’s eyes were clear in a way Draco hadn’t seen before, his pupils were dilated, but the colour had faded into something almost translucent. His attention was so centered on Draco that Draco had to stop himself from coming right then. The idea that Harry Potter was on his knees for him was almost too much. Harry, one of the most powerful wizards to have ever lived, a magical time bomb, had stopped ticking for  _ Draco _ . Harry was giving what little control he had to Draco, and it was such a heady feeling that Draco had to wonder if anything would ever compare to this.

“Alright,” Draco said, voice a little rougher than he’d like it to be. “You can suck now, but only very gently.”

Harry didn’t waste time. He pulled off of Draco’s cock almost entirely and suckled at the head. Draco groaned, and Harry did it again. He moved down to engulf the length of it and applied a pleasant pressure with his tongue. He moved back and reached up to hold the base of the cock steady, but Draco smacked his hands away.

“Did I say you could use your hands?” Harry pulled off completely and shook his head. “Harry.”

“No,” Harry replied, eyes downcast.

Draco sighed. “You have to listen. You have to show me  _ you  _ can stay in control.”

Harry nodded. “I’m sorry.” He wanted to cry. He longed to be able to stay himself. He wanted to stay in control, to do what he needed to, but he couldn’t even follow simple directions. He had practically attacked Draco to begin with. He should just let the wraith come and take him, because there was no point in him fighting anymore if he couldn’t even control himself for five minutes.

Draco sensed Harry was spiraling, and if there was ever a bad time for that, it was now. He reached out and placed his hand on Harry’s jaw, let his thumb run over his mouth. “I know you’re trying, but I need you to try harder, okay?”

“Okay,” Harry answered against Draco’s thumb, and Draco took the opportunity to slip it inside. 

“Good,” he replied, prying open Harry’s jaw, an idea coming to him. “So what I’m going to do, Harry, is I’m going to put my cock in your mouth and fuck your face. You’re not going to have to do anything. You’re just going to let me use your mouth, okay? Can you do that?”

It was suddenly the greatest idea Harry had ever heard. All he had to do was stay still and Draco would do all the work. Harry could do that. Draco was looking at him, expectant. “Yes,” he breathed, perching a little higher the back of his heels. "I can do that."

Draco nodded and stood up. “Put your hands on my hips,” Draco instructed. “If it’s too much, tap me two times, okay?”

“Okay.” Harry placed his hands on Draco’s hips and waited with his mouth open.

For the second time, Draco had to stop himself from coming just from looking at Harry. He shoved his hands into Harry’s hair and grabbed hold. Despite its brittle appearance, it was quite strong, if a little rough between his fingers. He lined up his cock and pushed into Harry’s waiting mouth, groaning at the feel of his dick hitting the back of Harry’s throat. He knew he wouldn’t last long, so he decided that there was no point in trying to draw it out.

Tears sprang to Harry’s eyes almost as soon as Draco started thrusting. The pace was merciless, but Harry didn’t falter. He tried to open his jaw wider, make his throat looser. He gripped at Draco’s hips to urge him on. Fingers tight in his hair, pulling at his nerves, sending tingles of pleasure down his spine straight to his prick.

“That’s it, Harry,” Draco panted. “Look at you, you take it so well.” Harry moaned around his mouthful, and Draco shuddered. He slammed into Harry’s mouth without regard, his orgasm pooling hotly in his belly.

Tears were streaming down Harry’s face now, both from the manhandling and the lack of oxygen, but somehow the ability to breathe didn’t matter as much as the way Draco was looking at him. He was doing good, he was in control, he was going to be okay.

“I’m going to come,” Draco puffed out. “Swallow.”

Harry pressed imperceptibly closer to Draco, and closed his eyes in silent invitation. Draco came with a half shout, shooting hard down Harry’s pliant throat, and Harry took it all. He choked on the last bit, but he didn’t let a drop out of his mouth.

Draco pulled out and sat down on the bed to catch his breath. Harry opened his eyes and looked at Draco. He was still on his knees, and becoming more and more aware of the hardness in his own pants. Draco seemed to have noticed it, too.

“Do you want to come?” Draco asked.

“Please.”

“You did so well before, do you think you can still be good?”

“Yes, please, I can do it,” Harry whined.

“Okay, you can touch yourself, but don’t move from your knees.”

“Thank you,” Harry said, undoing the button of his jeans. He pulled out his cock, which was almost purple with desire. He spread his precome down the length of it to ease the way.

“That’s it,” Draco urged as Harry jerked himself in hard fast strokes. “Go on and come for me.” At those words Harry stiffened and let out a gasp, his orgasm breaking and shooting onto the floor in front of him. “Good boy.”

Harry whimpered at that, shoulders sagging forward but never breaking his kneeling position. Draco spelled away the mess and walked over to Harry. “Look at me.” Harry raised his head. “You did well.”

“Thank you,” Harry murmured, a wave of tiredness washing over him.

“Can you stand?”

Harry nodded and stood, swaying slightly as he got to his feet. Draco led him to the other side of the bed, tucked his dick back into his boxers and pulled off his jeans. He pulled down the covers and fumbled Harry into the bed. “Sleep,” he told Harry, whose eyes were already closed.

Draco moved back to his side of the bed and lay down. In the bright of the room, the reality of what he had done hit him. He knew Harry wanted it, because he wouldn't have asked for it otherwise. But now that Draco was thinking clearer, he couldn’t help but feel that he’d taken advantage of the situation.

He knew it wasn’t as if the wraith or the dream was planting the ideas in Harry. From the time he took the Veritaserum, he knew that Harry wanted him. But would Harry have been as receptive if he wasn’t currently being psychologically tortured by a Dark creature? It wasn’t a question Draco could answer with confidence any which way.

He gave up trying and instead rolled onto his side, away from Harry, unable to face him even with his eyes closed. It was a long time before Draco fell back asleep.

—

Harry woke up disoriented but well-rested. Beside him Draco stiffened. Harry tensed as well as the memory of last night came flooding back.

“Malfoy,” Harry began and he reached out, grabbing Draco’s shoulder without a second thought and yanking him around to face him. “Fuck,” Harry cursed when he realised what he had done.

Draco tried not to jerk at the touch. “You have to think, Harry.” His tone was hard, but understanding. Draco rolled back over and got out of the bed. “We need to get going.”

“Malfoy, about last night,” Harry said, getting out of bed to follow Draco into the bathroom. Draco threw him a quelling look and he stopped, remembering himself. “About what happened last night.”

How was Draco going to explain to Harry why he’d let him suck his dick when it was obvious he wasn’t in control of his own actions? Draco sighed. “Look, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have done it. You were vulnerable and I took advantage. It’s inexcusable.”

“I wanted it,” Harry said, a bit taken aback. Wasn't he the one at fault here? He was the one that had thrown himself at Draco. “I don’t know why. I don’t even really like you, but I wanted it, and I liked it.” Harry paused and struggled for the right words to explain his predicament. “Ever since this curse manifested, I've felt out of control. It’s like my head and body are speaking different languages. But last night I was...I don’t know, but I felt like I was doing something right. My body was actually listening to me, and for  _ once  _ I was in charge.”

Draco didn’t quite know what to say to that. He hadn’t expected Harry to be so agreeable. Frankly, he’d been expecting to take at least a kick to the groin and a hex to the face. Draco had been quiet for too long and Harry started speaking again.

“I’d do it again, if you wanted,” he said, hung-up on the notion that Draco needed to know he had liked it.

Draco was having trouble swallowing as his mouth currently rivaled the Sahara. “That’s good to know,” he finally managed to get out.

Draco wasn’t someone who would look at the gift of Harry Potter on his knees in the mouth. He was someone who made demands and didn’t feel bad about it. And who wouldn’t want to have Harry Potter obeying their every whim? Ready to please and able to do it with such finesse. The problem was that Draco wasn’t sure if it was Harry that was doing it. In the moment it had felt right, but the aftermath left him feeling an acute sense of dissatisfaction. Even with Harry’s reassurances that he had liked it just as much as Draco, it didn’t feel quite right.

“I’m going to take a shower now.” He halted halfway through turning and looked at Harry. “Do not come in here while I’m in the shower.”

“I won’t,” Harry huffed, a little annoyed that Draco thought he would, and a lot annoyed that he had actually thought about it.

Draco gave him a jerky nod and disappeared into the bathroom.

Harry stood in the middle of the room long after the door had closed. He decided to busy himself with checking the brooms. It did little to take his mind off of the decidedly embarrassing things he had just admitted to. They were true, but that didn’t mean he needed to say it.

He still didn’t even understand his desire. He understood that Draco telling him what to do made him focus, but he couldn't fathom why it had to be Draco. There was no denying that Draco was attractive, but there were plenty of other attractive people in the world. Why hadn't he ever felt the same need when he was around them?

Admittedly, Harry hadn’t been around much company recently, but that didn’t matter. Because he could see now this need to submit went beyond a sexual one. Somehow, in submitting to Draco, in giving him the control, Harry had taken it himself. He wasn’t ashamed of what he had done with Draco for the most part, but he was angry that he had to do it. This stupid fucking curse was taking everything.

He dropped the levitating broom he was checking to the floor and began to pace. If he hadn’t been so impulsive in the first place, this wouldn’t be happening. At that irony he let out a bitter laugh that was grating even to his own ears. He passed in front of the mirror and stopped when he caught sight of himself. “You’re Harry James Potter,” he told the strange face.

“Are you?” The face replied and Harry spun away and repeated himself. The next time he turned around, a shadow was covering the mirror.

“Go away,” Harry told it. It didn’t move. He lowered his voice so Draco wouldn’t hear, and growled, “Get the fuck out of here.” The shadow remained motionless. Harry was beginning to panic. The shadow only ever came when he was weak, open, defenseless. Any sign that Harry could fight usually sent it running. 

The shadow shifted, and Harry took a step back. He’d seen it move before, but never like this. It was swirling and changing before him an actual shape taking hold.

The shadow floated from the mirror as it mutated and stopped right in front of Harry as a perfect outline of himself. Harry snarled and tried to push it back, but the shadowy hand caught his wrist. It burned. Harry yelped and tried to pull away, but the grip was too strong.

“Let go!” Harry shouted. He reached below his lungs and pooled his magic before expelling it. The shadow stumbled back and fell to the ground. Harry reached for his wand, but Draco was in the room before a spell could pass his lips.

“ _ Expecto Patronum!”  _ A white light hit the shadow in the head and it reeled back and disappeared. Harry turned to find Draco standing shirtless in the doorway lowering his wand. “What happened?”

“It changed,” Harry said.

“Yes, I bloody well saw that, but what happened to make it change? What did it do?”

“I don’t fucking know!” Harry hissed. “It just changed and when I told it to fuck off, it stayed. It grabbed me and wouldn’t let go.” Harry held his arm out to Draco to show him the imprint of his own hand on his wrists. “It’s never done that before.”

“Never touched you?” Draco asked, coming over to inspect his arm.

“It’s never not let go. It was pulling at me, like it was trying to take me somewhere.” Harry took his arm from Draco’s hand and covered the mark with his other hand. It was a perfect match. “It’s trying to take me to the other side, isn’t it?”

Draco saw no need to lie, so he nodded even though Harry wasn’t looking at him. “It’s getting bolder, which means we’re running out of time. There’s going to be no time to rest once we get to Italy. We need to get in and out, and I need to know that you’re going to stay in control while we do it, otherwise we may as well give up now.”

“I can do this,” Harry said.

“Are you sure?” Draco asked. “Because there is no room for mistakes for what we’re going to do.”

“You still haven’t told me what we’re going to do,” Harry pointed out.

“At this point, I really think it’s best you don’t know until it’s actually happening. Get your things, We’re leaving.”

—

The weather was perfect for flying. Unfortunately, neither Harry nor Draco were enjoying it. Harry was still too strung out from his earlier encounter with the wraith, while Draco was trying to figure out how he was going to pull off the next part of their journey without everything falling apart. He occupied himself by running through every disaster scenario he could think of.

When Draco’s Point Me spell pinged, he signaled to Harry to make their descent. Harry nodded and down they went, landing in a forest.

Draco shoved his broom at Harry without a word and pulled a mobile out of his pocket. Harry glared at him and bit out a sour, “You’re welcome.” Draco ignored him and started fussing with the phone.

“You’ve got a mobile?” Harry asked.

“Of course I do. Don’t you?”

“Yes, but I’m not a Pureblood that once described all Muggle inventions as ‘an exercise in barbarism,’” Harry pointed out.

Draco sniffed. “I may have spoken too soon.”

“What do you need it for anyway?” Harry needled.

“Making phone calls, what else?” Draco rolled his eyes and punched in a number. When the person on the other end answered, Draco replied in Italian. The phone call was quick and Draco soon hung up. “This way,” he told Harry and started walking.

“You speak Italian? Who was that? Where are we going? Where are we right now?”

“Salazar!” Draco rounded on him. “Do you ever shut up?”

“Well, I wouldn’t have to ask you all these questions if you would stop being so bloody mysterious about everything,” Harry shot back. “What, do Slytherins take lessons on how to be as ambiguous as possible?” 

“Harry, if you weren’t such a fucking Gryffindor, we wouldn’t be here in the first place.” Draco turned back around and started off again. Harry stalked after him.

“Why do you keep calling me Harry?” He asked after he caught up.

Draco glanced at him before answering. “Names have magic, too. It’s part of who you are. Given names can ground a person, help them remember themselves.”

“I like it,” Harry said before he could stop himself. Goddamnit, he had to remember to  _ think _ . “I mean, I do the same thing sometimes. I tell myself things about me so that I don’t…forget. It helps.”

Draco looked at him out of the corner of his eye, but Harry was looking resolutely forward. Not for the first time, Draco felt a pang of sympathy. As much as he wanted to dislike Harry, he didn’t deserve what was happening to him.

“That’s clever,” Draco said after a while. He saw Harry smile but they walked the rest of the way in silence.

When the trees thinned out they were in a small clearing that served as a car park. It was empty save for the two of them. “There’s a car coming for us,” Draco said as he walked over to sit on the lone bench.

Annoyance flashed in Harry. “I thought you said you didn’t like cars.”

“I never said I didn’t like them,” Draco replied. “What I said was that I wasn’t going to spend two days trapped in a confined space with you. I’m sure your taste in music is just as abysmal as your personality.”

“So we had to fly all the way here because you do like cars, you just didn’t want to be inconvenienced with my music?”

Draco grinned. “That’s about the whole of it." In truth he got incredibly car sick after a few hours, but he didn't need to tell Harry that.

“God, you’re irritating,” Harry said sitting beside him.

“Pot, meet kettle,” Draco retorted. Harry couldn’t fight the grin that found its way to his face. But when his mouth opened Draco caught sight of his teeth, they were jagged in an inhuman way. “You should reapply your Glamour before the car gets here.” Beside him Harry stiffened.

“Right,” he snapped. Draco blinked at him but Harry wouldn’t look at him. He pulled out his wand and reapplied the Glamour with practised ease.

Harry knew that Draco was right to point it out. He had the Glamour on for a reason. But he was still angry Draco had brought it up because for a moment there he had forgotten that he was a walking nightmare. For a moment, he felt like Harry.

Before they could say anything else, a black town car pulled into the lot. Draco stood to greet it, and Harry followed. The car pulled out of the lot and they headed down a quiet tree-lined highway.

“We’re in Pisa,” Draco said to Harry, unprompted. “I need to attend to some business before we can go into Rome.”

Harry nodded but said nothing. He concentrated on trying to look out the window at the passing trees without catching sight of himself in the reflection


	7. Chapter 7

Draco had fallen asleep during the car ride. It was a smooth ride, but as he wasn’t used to the feeling, and it almost always made him queasy, he usually spent the majority of the car rides he took with his eyes closed. Hence, the falling asleep.

When he woke, Harry was was watching him, a bit amused. “What is it?” Draco asked, voice sleep scratchy.

“Nothing,” Harry replied.

“Then why are you watching me?”

“I wanted to see if you’d wake up if I looked at you long enough.”

Draco scowled. “And how long have you been staring at me?”

“I don’t know. A while.” Harry finally turned away and watched the road through the front window.

“That’s not at all disturbing,” Draco muttered to himself.

“You must have been really tired because you were snoring.”

Draco turned his head to face Harry and gave him his best sneer. “First of all,  _ of course _ I’m tired. I’ve been flying for two days and I didn’t exactly get much sleep last night. And second of all, I. Do. Not. Snore.”

“Yes, you do,” Harry said, a small smile playing on his lips, but still looking straight ahead. “Ask the driver.”

Draco huffed and looked at the driver. It was then he noticed their surroundings. He asked the man in Italian if they were close to their destination. The man nodded.

“See? Told you,” Harry said turning to look at him with a full blown smile.

“He didn’t say I snored,” Draco whined crossing his arms. “He said we’re almost there.”

“And where exactly is there?” Harry asked.

“As it happens, Blaise has some connections here. He’s agreed to help us—for a price.”

Harry’s expression darkened. Of course a Slytherin could never do anything out of the goodness of their heart. Everything had to be an exchange. “What does he want?”

“He hasn’t told me yet, but he said you’re the only person who can pay it, whatever that means.” He rolled his eyes. Draco was willing to admit he could be a bit dramatic sometimes, but Blaise took the cake. Talking to him felt like a production at the Globe.

“I’m not going to kill anyone,” Harry said.

“Merlin, you think he would ask you to kill someone?” Draco laughed. “Why would anyone ever ask you that— you’re terrible at it.”

Harry shot an incredulous look at Draco. “I seem to recall defeating a Dark Lord once.” 

“Yes, you did do that, didn’t you? It only took you seven years to do it.”

Harry glared and huffed. “Sorry I wasn’t exactly skilled in the art of homicide when I was eleven.”

“A tragedy for the ages,” Draco replied as the car pulled up to an orange building. He got out before Harry could say anything more, coming to stand in front of the building. “Would you hurry up?” Draco barked from the pavement.

Harry took his time getting out of the car. He went so slowly in fact, the driver turned around to glare at him. Harry didn’t mind and continued to exit the car at a glacial pace, eyes never leaving Draco’s and a smug grin planted on his face. When he was finally out and shut the door, the driver sped off in a huff of smoke and burnt rubber.

Draco’s eyes narrowed when Harry came to halt in front of him. “Oh no, take your time. It’s not as if you’re dying or anything.”

“Am I? I hadn’t noticed.”

Draco snorted and turned on his heel to head into the building.

“You’re kind of cute when you’re annoyed,” Harry said before he could think better of it.

“Then I must be ‘kind of cute’ all the time around you,” Draco answered without missing a beat and opened the door.

“Yeah, you kind of are.” Harry enjoyed the way the way Draco’s cheeks pinked as he pushed himself through the door first.

The inside of the building didn’t match the outside at all. The floors were marble and gold accents sparkled from every direction. Harry appreciated the brightness of what seemed to be the lobby, but he didn’t know where to look with all the reflective surfaces. Even the floor was shiny enough to show his face.

Harry let Draco step in front of him and focussed his eyes on his back, trying to control his rising panic. His mind flashed to that morning’s incident, and he wasn’t sure he was ready for a repeat. 

Draco nodded to a doorman who let them through to the lift, which was considerably darker than the lobby. Once in the lift, Draco shot Harry a worried look, but Harry paid him no attention. His chest was heaving in the effort to calm down, but it wasn’t helping. Draco put his hands on Harry's shoulders and turned Harry to face him. He spoke in a low voice: 

“Breathe, Harry.”

Harry drew in a shaky breath and tried to even out his breathing. Draco’s eyes were placid and the hands on Harry’s shoulders were grounding. By the time they reached the right floor, Harry had calmed down enough for Draco to let him go.

“Alright?” Draco asked as the door slid open. Harry nodded and swallowed hard, pulling away fully from Draco. Draco walked out of the lift and into a foyer, decorated in a similar fashion as the lobby. A clacking on the marble floor indicated someone approaching.

Blaise appeared in the doorway, a smirk already on his face. “Draco.”

“Blaise,” Draco returned, arms already outstretched for a hug.

A spark of covetousness lit through Harry and without thinking, he stepped forward and tugged Draco back with a snarled, “No.”

Incredulous, Draco turned to Harry to find his expression mirroring his own. 

“Harry,” Draco hissed. Harry dropped Draco’s arm as if it burned, shame drowning out the feeling of jealousy. 

“I’m sorry,” Harry murmured. Draco felt a little bad for Harry then. Judging by the mortified look on his face, they were heading down a path that they did not have time for. 

“It’s okay,” Draco assured him with a sigh. “You just have to think.”

“Well, now, this is interesting.” Harry and Draco looked at Blaise who was watching them with clear amusement.

“We’re not talking about it,” Draco told him.

Blaise raised a brow. “Why not? I’d love to hear how you managed to make him so…tame? No, that’s not quite right.” Blaise pretended to think. “No, I’ve got it: submissive.”

“Blaise, we’re not fucking talking about it, and we’re on a tight schedule, so if you could move this right along, that would be great.”

“Hey, I’m doing  _ you _ a favour here,” Blaise replied, but still moved into the next room.

Draco snorted. “I’m pretty sure we’re both paying you for this.”

“I believe I only requested that Potter do me a small favour. I’ve asked nothing of you,” Blaise said. He led them into a sitting room and sat in an overstuffed chair. He waved his hand, gesturing for them to sit. Harry tensed as he glanced around the dim room; there were too many places for a something to hide in the shadows.

“Don’t act like you’re not going to hold on to this for the next decade.” Draco plopped onto a love seat, heedless of Harry standing next to him like a guard dog. “And this room! I'm surprised you haven't got us kissing your feet with gratitude.”

“You know me too well.” Blaise smiled. He wasn’t the least bit angry Draco saw through his charade. “I suppose it’s better to just cut to the chase then?”

“Please, for once in your life.”

“You seem stressed, Draco, is something the matter?” Blaise asked sickly sweet.

The whole exchange was making Harry nauseous. “Jesus Christ, can the both of you just get on with it?” Harry exploded.

“My apologies,” Blaise said with a tip of his head, while Draco glared at him. “Well, here’s the map you’ll be needing.” He snapped his fingers. A house-elf appeared before the love seat, holding a silver platter with a single sheet of parchment on it. “It goes without saying that you’ll have to destroy it afterward, of course that’s only a copy. And don’t try to copy it yourself.”

Draco plucked the paper from the tray and the elf disappeared. Harry leaned over to see it but he couldn’t quite figure out what he was looking at. The parchment was blank.

“Now, Potter, in regards to that favour…”

“I’m not killing anyone.” The repeated declaration had Blaise reacting much the same as Draco had.

“I’d never ask you to do something so trivial as that.” Blaise clasped his hands over his knee, and Harry grimaced at the ease with which Blaise offered that opinion. But Blaise was a businessman, and he didn’t let Harry’s apparent disgust deter him. “You’re still a Parselmouth, aren’t you?”

Harry considered lying. There were rumours that he had lost the ability when Voldemort died, but they were untrue. Hermione had started them for the very situation he was faced with right now.

“What if I’m not?” Harry asked.

“Then I might have to ask you to do something trivial,” Blaise replied, a glint in his eye that Harry didn’t like in the least.

“I am a Parselmouth,” Harry conceded.

“Glad to hear that. In that case, the favour I need isn’t a very big one. There’s a portrait in the corridor of the catacombs, it’s of the Garden, you can’t miss it.”

“Catacombs?” Harry interrupted.

Blaise raised an eyebrow and Draco cut in, “I haven’t exactly told him where we’re going yet.”

Blaise nodded. “Understandable.”

“How is  _ that  _ understandable?” Harry demanded.

Draco sighed. “One, because it keeps me valuable to your well being, so you have incentive to not attack me or go off and try to do it yourself. Two, I don’t have to listen to you complain about what we’re going to do for days on end.”

“Basic business,” Blaise said with an approving nod.

“Well, are you planning on telling me now?” Harry asked.

All Draco said was, “Eventually.”

Harry crossed his arms in a snit and turned back to Blaise.

“As I was saying,” Blaise continued. “There’s a portrait in the corridor of the Garden of Eden featuring the snake. I need you to ask it how it opens.”

“How what opens?”

“That doesn’t matter,” Blaise assured him. “Just ask it how it opens and tell me what it says. Now, because of the nature of this transaction, you’ll need to take an Unbreakable Vow.”

“What?” Harry surged forward but Draco tugged him back lightly before he could get very far. Blaise looked unfazed.

"Why do I need to take a Vow? I said I'd do it." What if something happened and Harry couldn’t do what Blaise had asked? What if the portrait wasn’t there? He already had a curse trying to kill him, he didn’t need another one!

“Oh, not for you.” Blaise’s smile was so sharp, diamonds seemed dull in comparison.

“What?” Harry repeated softer.

“For him,” Blaise clarified, nodding at Draco.

“Blaise, you are an absolutely ruthless person,” Draco said without a hint of distress.

“So, we have an agreement?”

Draco stood and held out his hand in agreement. Blaise stood as well and shook his hand before turning to Harry. “You can perform the spell.”

“No,” Harry said. “I’m not going to do that.” It was one thing to put himself in harm’s way, but now to put Draco into it? After all Draco had done for him already? Not bloody likely.

"Look, I'll give you an alternative," Blaise told him, and from the way his eyes gleamed, Harry could tell this was what he had been aiming for all along.

"What is it?"

"It's nothing, you won't even have to do anything right now. You'll just owe me a favour."

Draco took an unconscious step between them. "Not going to happen, Blaise."

Harry glared at Draco. "Excuse me, but this is my choice."

"Well it's a stupid choice, and I'm telling you it's not going to happen," Draco retorted in a harsh whisper. "You think you have it bad now? Wait until you owe him something."

"I'd be offended, but it's true," Blaise offered with a grin. "However, it is your decision, Potter."

Draco looked at Harry willing him to see reason. "Harry, listen to me. I know what I'm talking about."

"But it's not fair to you," Harry replied. "You shouldn't-"

"I know," Draco cut him off, before he could reveal anything too personal in front of Blaise. "But these are our options, and I need you to trust me."

Harry felt himself deflate. Draco was asking him to trust him, and Harry wanted to as much as he hated it. He bowed his head in defeat, and Draco nodded at Blaise.

Blaise raised an eyebrow but said nothing as he walked over to the door and called out, “Marco!” A moment later a slim boy in tan chinos and a tight white polo slid into the room. Draco gave his friend a pointed look. Blaise shrugged. “You have yours, I have mine." He turned to the boy. "Marco, I need you to perform a Vow.”

Marco said nothing, only nodded his head once to show he understood. Even though he agreed to this, Harry still stood fuming off to the side.

Both participants sank to their knees and clasped each other’s arms. Marco held the tip of his wand to their hands and Blaise spoke. “Will you, Draco, make sure that Harry Potter fulfills the task I have set to him to the best of your ability?”

“I will,” Draco replied. Light shot out of Marco’s wand and curled around their clasped hands.

“I still think that was a stupid thing to do,” Harry muttered when Draco got off of the floor.

“We need this map, Harry,” Draco sighed. “Unless you want to die, that is?”

“I’d rather die than have you die because I couldn’t do something,” Harry whispered.

“I know,” Blaise cut in. “That’s why you weren’t the one to make the Vow. Gryffindors are so easy to do business with.” Harry scowled and Draco rolled his eyes. “Will you two be staying for tea? You’re not leaving until after dark, right?”

“Yes, but I’d like to freshen up, if you don’t mind,” Draco said.

“Not at all. Pippa will take you to a room.” He snapped his fingers and the house-elf reappeared. It said something in Italian and Draco moved to follow it out. “Just come down when you’re ready,” Blaise called after them with a wink.

Pippa showed them to a guest bedroom with an ensuite bathroom. Harry was grateful to see that this room was decorated with a more modest atmosphere in mind. Dark wood floors and bright white sheets. The window was open and the sun was streaming in. There were a few shadowy corners around the room but it was blessedly empty of any reflective surfaces, so Harry let himself relax enough to sit down.

“Why?” Harry asked as soon as Pippa had snapped out of existence.

“It's not a big deal,” Draco sighed. It wasn’t like he hadn't done business with Blaise before. He always demanded a high payment.

“I thought you said you weren’t willing to die for me.”

“And I’m not,” Draco replied, heading for the bathroom. “So don’t fuck it up.”

Once alone, Draco let himself panic for just a moment. There were already so many things that could go wrong, and now he was bound by a vow. Though Blaise couldn’t know exactly how difficult what he was asking would be, Draco felt resentment boil up in him. But it was better for everyone if Harry wasn't in Blaise's debt.

And now he really needed to let Harry in on the plan. There was so much potential for disaster. If the wraith came while they were in the catacombs, they’d likely never get out. And now they had to make small talk with the portraits.

Draco splashed water on his face and cast a few refreshing charms before going back out to speak with Harry.

“We need to talk about what we’re doing tonight,” Draco said.

“Finally going to let me in on the secret?” Harry sneered.

“I could wait to tell you,” Draco said just to be petty, and Harry glared at him but said no more. “That’s what I thought.” He crossed his arms and attempted to look as nonchalant as possible. “We need to retrieve an item from a sacred place. The item in question has the longest history of successfully exorcising demons. This item is non-negotiable, if we do not retrieve it, you will not make it. Do you understand?”

“Yes, just tell me what it is,” Harry snapped.

“A cross from the tomb of the Apostle Peter,” Draco said as if they were going to the opera and not to rob the grave of a saint.

“We have to break into the Vatican?” Harry asked, incredulous. Harry wasn’t stupid, he knew the Catholic Church was full of wizards, and that St. Peter’s was one of the most secure sites in the world. Ancient magic lay in the very foundation of the building, and the place would be teeming with guards both Muggle and wizard alike. And they had to steal something from the oldest tomb? Harry might as well dig his grave now. “We can’t steal a cross from the Vatican! I already have one ancient, and frankly terrifying, curse on me, I don’t need another!” 

“Oh for fuck's sake, it doesn’t work like that. Yes, it’s true that the cross is a relic and probably has dozens of spells on it, but at the end of the day, it’s a protection amulet. It’s not going to curse you, and it’s not going to damn you to Hell or whatever.”

While most wizards didn’t believe in what the Muggles referred to as Hell, they did believe in a lesser version of it. One’s deeds on Earth were taken into account, but just like magic, it was more about intent than action that decided which plane a wizard was on. Still, he knew Harry had grown up a Muggle, and that the idea of breaking into the Vatican to steal something was the paramount of sacrilege. It was one of the reasons he hadn’t told him what they were doing.

Draco sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. 

“These are our options, Harry,” he said. “You don’t have the time. If this doesn’t work, then I don’t know what will.”

“Do you think it’s wise that I go into a church in my current condition?”

“No, which is why I didn’t want to you to come along in the first place. Now we have no choice.”

Guilt was a brick in Harry’s stomach, and he looked away from Draco. If he had stayed in England, Draco wouldn’t have had to take an Unbreakable Vow for him. His actions put Draco in danger and who knew how many others if Blaise got what he wanted from Harry. Goddamnit, he had fucked up again just because he couldn’t  _ listen _ .

“Harry.” Draco’s voice broke through Harry’s thoughts and Harry slowly his eyes raised to meet Draco’s. “Stop, whatever it is you’re thinking, you need to stop. I need you to focus. Can you do that?”

Harry took a deep breath and pushed the thoughts away. “Yeah, sorry, yeah. I can do this.”

“Good. We can’t take any chances here, we can’t afford any mistakes.”

Harry let out an exasperated breath. “Yeah, I got it, Malfoy.”

Draco wanted to say something else, but they didn't have time for another argument. “Fine. Now come look at this map, so we can go over the plan.”

__

They spent the better part of an hour going over the plan. It was actually a straightforward plan, made a little easier with the introduction of Harry’s cloak, but Harry had so many questions it took longer than expected.

“I don’t understand why we can’t just use the cross,” Harry needled.

“We could, but it would just draw the wraith out, not eradicate it. The cross is used in tandem with the incantation, you know, ‘the power of Christ compels you’ and all that. Plus that’s to help those suffering from possession. You’re not possessed, technically. That’s why we need the purification water.”

“Can’t we just use Holy Water?”

Draco shook his head. “Not strong enough. Besides, it’s the same type of magic so there’s a higher chance the spirit can resist it. Better to use two types so they can’t fight it off as easily.” Harry nodded and Draco continued. “I suspect we’re probably going to have to deal with it before we get to Tibet, so it’s not a bad idea to grab some Holy Water in case a Patronus doesn’t work again.”

“Fun,” Harry grimaced.

Draco pointed out something on the map. “So, the entrance to Necropolis is fairly unprotected because they allow tourists to visit, but there is no way we’d be able to get past the clerks there. So there’s this alternative entrance.”

Harry watched as Draco’s finger glided to another point. “Here is where members of the church enter. It’s woefully under protected according to Blaise’s sources, plus it will be after hours, so that’s our best bet.”

“So, how are we going to get in?”

“We’re going to fly in. The only wizards in the church are the clerks. They are a force to be reckoned with, but time hasn’t been exactly kind to their cause and there’s only a handful of them left. If we can get to the entrance without being caught, we should be okay.” He sat back and ran a hand through his hair. “Unfortunately, any type of disguise spell won’t work there. All your sins laid bare is  _ not _ a suggestion. At least you’ve got the invisibility cloak.”

Harry thought for a moment. It all sounded perfectly doable, but there was an elephant in the room that needed addressing. “And what if my demon self decides to show up?”

There was no hint of sarcasm when Draco said, “Then God help us.”

—

It was late afternoon by the time Harry and Draco left the guest room to join Blaise for tea.

“Rest well?” Blaise asked with a knowing smirk as they sat down.

Draco rolled his eyes. “Blaise, please.”

“What? I was just inquiring if your rest was satisfactory.” He turned to Harry. “Are you feeling relaxed, Potter? Or did Draco keep you occupied?”

“Blaise,” Draco said in warning.

Harry looked between Draco, who looked moments away from hexing Blaise into the next century, and Blaise, who looked entirely too pleased with himself, and whispered, “What the fuck?”

Blaise threw his head back and let out a raucous laugh. “That’s what I want to know, Potter!”

Harry looked back at Draco and repeated, “What the fuck?”

Draco let out a long suffering sigh and said, “He wants to know if we’ve been fucking.”

Blaise tsked at that. “How vulgar, and at the table as well. What would your mother say?”

“She’d probably wonder what the help was doing at the table to ask such questions in the first place,” Draco shot back.

Blaise raised a glass at that. “Touché.”

“You’re both mental,” Harry muttered to himself, stabbing at the tiny portion of meat in front of him. Fuck posh people, honestly.

“Perhaps,” Blaise conceded. “But I’m not the one trying to break into the Vatican, am I?”

“It’s not as if we’re doing it for fun,” Draco replied.

“With Potter? Who can really tell?”

Draco shrugged and raised his glass. “Got me there.”

“I am sitting right here, you know,” Harry protested.

“And you’re doing such a good job of it, Potter,” Blaise cooed. Harry bared his teeth at him and Blaise leaned back in his chair. “Now, isn’t  _ that _ interesting. I can see why you need to break into the Vatican. Is that why you’ve been missing all these months? This wouldn't have anything to do with those outbreaks of Dark magic would it?”

Draco’s head whipped to look at Harry, jagged teeth on full display. His fucking teeth were always the first thing to lose the Glamour for some reason. “The Glamour,” Draco hissed.

"What is he talking about, bursts of Dark magic?" Harry asked, pulling out his want to recast the Glamour.

"I'm not sure," Draco lied through his teeth. He gave Blaise a warning look, and Harry glanced between them both with suspicion.

Blaise had that look in his eye like he’d just found a Galleon in a goblet. This could prove to be very valuable information to the right people.

“Zabini, I swear to Marie Laveau, if you tell anyone of this, you will not even live long enough to regret it,” Draco threatened.

“Touchy,” Blaise laughed. “Alright, I won’t say anything if you answer me this: what’s it to you? It’s clearly not about the money.”

“Again, I am, right here,” Harry interjected, but was largely ignored.

Draco glanced at Harry glaring at them both before he answered Blaise. Draco felt the lie come as easily as the first: “I owe him a life debt.”

—

Harry and Draco left Blaise’s place just after sunset. They were both tense as they flew, and the brooms sensed it. Speeding up or slowing down was jerky at best, and they would sometimes start to descend without meaning to.

Draco had explained to Harry that they were going to fly into the bell tower of St. Peter’s, because no one was ever up there after dark. There was the possibility of a bell ringer being at the bottom, but they could be taken care of without much hassle.

When the bell tower came into view, Draco pulled ahead and signaled to slow down. He flew in first and waved to show Harry it was empty. Harry came in and was on his feet without a sound.

Draco handed Harry his broom and he shoved them both into the expandable bag. He pulled out his cloak and crowded next to Draco so they could both fit under it.

They both waited with bated breath for an alarm to sound, but when none came, they moved to the stairs and down without any noise. Harry had never been religious. His relatives had always forced him to church, but he never really got the appeal. But now in front of the door that would take them into the main part of the church, where they would try to steal one of the church's most prized possession, Harry felt like there was never a better time to say a little prayer. 


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> CW: Blood, drowning

Harry did not feel well as they made their way down the stairs away from the bell tower. He wanted to chalk it up to nerves, but he knew that wasn’t it. His chest was tight, sweat was gathering at the back of his neck and rolling down his spine, and he was sure Draco could feel him shaking. But if Draco knew something was off, he didn’t show any indication to Harry. Instead, Draco’s steps were cautious but quick, and Harry had no choice but to keep up if they were both to stay under the cloak. 

When they reached the bottom of the stairs it was empty, and Harry let out a small sigh of relief at making it this far. Draco turned to give him a warning look, but jerked back at the sight of Harry's face. Harry grabbed his arm and held him steady, his amber eyes narrowed to slits.

Draco had known the Glamour would be taken away when they entered the Basilica, and it wasn't as if he wasn't used to his appearance. But he hadn’t been prepared to be so close to Harry’s face, either - especially not now that his  _ pupils _ had disappeared. His irises were clear marbles of colour and the effect was was nothing short of terrifying.

Harry dropped Draco’s arm and they moved towards the door. Draco opened it a crack and peered out, Harry’s body pressing up against his as he too attempted to see out. Draco gave him a light elbow to the ribs before opening the door a bit wider. They waited for a few moments, listening for any sound of footsteps down the empty corridor.

When none came, Draco stepped out into the hallway with Harry close behind. As soon as the door had shut, something turned in Harry. He was sweating now, and he felt nausea rolling in his stomach like storm waters.

“Something's wrong,” Harry whispered so quietly he wasn’t even sure Draco could hear him.

Draco turned to him with incredulous look on his face, a quip about how  _ of course _ something was wrong. But once he really looked at Harry his irritation morphed into unease. “What is it?”

“I don’t know. I think it’s-”

“Don’t say it,” Draco cut it him off in a hiss. “Don’t speak it into existence.”

Harry nodded, and they began to move down the corridor. They didn’t get very far when the voices came, quiet but echoing down the hall. Though the voices didn’t sound alarmed, both Harry and Draco stiffened anyway.

A pair of priests started down the corridor towards them. Draco prayed they were ordinary priests and not clerks. As they drew closer, Harry became more and more anxious. He was shifting from foot to foot and Draco was gripping his wrist so tight it was sure to leave bruises.

Harry wasn’t trying to draw attention to himself. It was just that if he didn’t move now he was pretty sure his skeleton was going to expel itself from his body. The priests were getting closer and Draco was gripping Harry with strength that he didn’t know he had.

They were in-line with the priests when it happened. Something grabbed Harry by the back of the neck, yanked him out from under the cloak and drew him into the air.

“ _ Diavolo! _ ” one of the priests shouted, snapping the cross from his chest and holding it out towards Harry. He looked to be hovering on his own in the dimness, but Draco could see the shadow gripping him. The other priest went running down the way they had come, shouting, “ _ Demone! _ ”

“Fuck!” Draco threw off the cloak and stunned the priest making a break for it and then the one in front of them. But it was too late: Draco could hear the heavy footfalls and shouts of others coming to see what all the commotion was about.

Harry managed to slip from the wraiths grasp. He fell to the floor in a heap of limbs just as two men rounded the corner. 

“Get up, get up, get up,” Draco chanted moving towards Harry.

The men came closer and Draco realised with a sinking feeling that they were clerks. Their hands were already out in preparation for a spell. But as they neared, their focus shifted from Draco and Harry to the shadow that was moving towards them with unearthly speed.

The clerk on the left recited a verse and light shot out from his fingers, catching the wraith in the side. It let out a wail that sounded like it was screaming underwater and fell back. The clerk on the right turned his attention to Draco, a verse forming on his lips. Before Draco could counter, a burst of magic rose from his side and knocked the clerk back into a wall with such force he was sure he heard bones crack. He saw Harry, panting, with his wand pointed.

Harry wasn’t sure what he had just done to the clerk, but he didn’t have time to dwell on it. The clerk who’d been dealing with the wraith was turning to them. They could hear other voices in the distance and they would soon be outnumbered. Draco grabbed Harry’s wrist and dragged him down the hall.

They heard the drone of a verse before the ceiling opened up and the contents of the Atlantic rained down on them. As the flood hit, Draco and Harry were torn apart. Harry thrashed in the water, struggling to figure out which way was up. He gasped and ended up with a mouthful of water burning down his lungs. He screamed to push the water out, but it didn’t leave.

The water chewed him up before spitting him back out into the corridor. He choked and fought for breath, blindly reaching out for his wand. But the water had parted to let the clerks through and suddenly the only thing he knew was pain. Harry screeched, a pathetic, broken sound. He twisted his head to find his hands and feet nailed to the marble floor. He tried to flex his hands but it only brought more agony.

A cry from his left drew his attention and he saw Draco ejected from the water and tossed to the floor. The clerks drew forward, hands out and defensive. They shouted at Harry in Italian but he couldn’t understand them.

There was a clerk hovering over him now, a whip in his hand that he cracked next to Harry’s head. He asked a question again, but Harry couldn’t answer. He turned his head to catch sight of Draco, only to see a clerk whip him across the face.

The same wailing noise from earlier rang down the corridor and the clerk that had been standing over Harry fell backwards. Harry ripped his hands through the nails with a snarl, ignoring the pain, and summoned his wand. He sent the clerk near Draco into the water and spelled the nails from his feet.

When Draco looked up, he saw Harry stalking towards him, the wraith mirroring his movements at his back. The water disappeared as two more clerks arrived. Harry didn’t hesitate to drop them where they stood.

The clerk that had whipped Draco tried to stand but Harry reached him first. He put his hand around his throat, picked him up and slammed him into the ground, knocking him out cold.

“Harry, we need to move,” Draco called before incapacitating one of the original clerks. 

Draco’s voice cut through the fog of anger that had enveloped Harry and he let go of the clerk with a growl. When Harry turned, Draco had his wand pointed at him. Harry reared back, almost tripping over the body of the clerk.

The wraith was still at Harry’s back, and at this point, Draco wasn’t sure if it was just the wraith. They way it and Harry moved - totally in sync - it might be too late for the both of him. But still Draco pointed his wand at the shadow and shouted, “Expecto Patronum!” 

But nothing happened, Draco’s wand merely twitched in his hand.

The wraith pushed Harry forward, and he clawed at Draco’s throat, but Harry’s hands were slippery from blood and unable to find purchase. Draco struggled to fight off Harry without hurting him. 

“Harry, stop!” He pushed him hard and Harry fell back into the clerk behind him. Draco scrambled up, his eyes catching sight of a pewter cross around the clerk's neck. He yanked it off and flung it at the wraith.

The wraith seized up, and Harry fell forward with a groan. Draco grabbed him by the arm and hauled him up. They were almost to the door when the alarm sounded. Draco flung open the door and pushed Harry inside before firing off a series of locking charms. When he turned around, Harry was swaying on his feet, blood dripping from his hands. Draco caught him before he could tumble over and quickly sealed the wounds. 

“Harry, you need to wake up.”

Harry moaned and clung to Draco. His body felt so light, like he was floating in the breeze. He was so tired now, and he needed to sleep. He sagged down Draco’s chest, murmuring nonsense the whole way.

“We’ve got to find that fucking portrait,” Draco shouted, shaking Harry. It did nothing to wake him, and Draco swore in frustration. Without thinking about the consequences, Draco pointed his wand at Harry’s chest and hit him with a shocking hex. Harry jerked to attention, his eyes so wide Draco swore he saw the electricity from his spell crackling behind them. There was no time to check if Harry was alright, so Draco just grabbed his hand and ran.

The tombs were surprisingly spartan, just simple graves carved into stone. The walls were plain and there was no portrait in sight. The farther into the catacombs they went, the more lavish the decorations became, so at least Draco knew they were headed the right way.

“There!” Harry shouted and pointed up ahead. There was large arched doorway with clear glass doors and on the wall next to it was a life sized portrait of Adam and Eve featuring the snake.

“ _ Hello! _ ” Harry called in Parseltongue before he’d even reached it. The snake in the portrait didn’t react. “ _ Excuse me! _ ”

“Is this the right portrait?” Harry asked Draco when the snake stayed still.

“I don’t know, but we need to hurry up.” He could feel the clerks shaking the spells he'd placed on the door.

Harry faced the snake again. “ _ Excuse me, could you please wake up? _ ”

The portrait shimmered and the snake blinked slowly, taking in Harry and Draco’s disheveled appearance.

“ _ Well, what do we have here? _ ” the snake hissed. “ _ I haven’t had a visitor in centuries. I’m sure you’ve come wanting to know. _ ”

Harry didn’t know what that meant, but he nodded anyway. “ _ Yes, I’ve come to ask how does it open? _ ”

The snake blinked and sighed. “ _ You all ask the wrong questions. _ ”

“ _ Excuse me? _ ” Harry asked it.

The snake was already falling back asleep. “ _ It opens with a key. _ ” The portrait shimmered to a stop.

“What did it say?” Draco asked.

“It said it opens with a key,” Harry replied. “Is that - is it okay? That fulfills the Vow, right?”

“You asked, it answered, let’s go.” Draco stood in front of the glass doors trying to figure out what spell to use that wouldn’t backfire and stab them with millions of shards of glass. Harry walked in front of them and they automatically opened. “How did you do that?”

Harry gave him a look. “They’re motioned-sensored.”

“Whatever,” Draco said pushing past Harry into the room.

They both stopped cold in the center of the tomb of Pope Pius XI. Even though neither of them were religious, they couldn’t deny the reverence of the tomb. The marble outline of the Pope emitted a kind of veneration that Draco had never seen before.

“It doesn’t really feel right,” Harry whispered.

“I know, but it’s this or you, and to be fair he’s already dead.”

“Draco,” Harry said softly and Draco tried to think about why he liked hearing Harry use his given name. Harry didn’t know why he’d said it himself. Something about this place made him feel as if he needed to be honest. Not in the way that the wraith made him lose control, say whatever popped into his head, but in a cleansing sort of way, as if he were being unburdened.

Draco stepped forward and murmured an apology to the grave. “He needs it, so please forgive us.” He plucked the cross that was hanging on the side of the tomb. He checked for tracking spells and was surprised to find it wholly unprotected in that sense. He wound it around his neck. The cross was plain, but Draco could feel the the thousands of years of magic woven into it, seeping into his skin.

Harry felt the locking spells break and turned to Draco with a grim expression and said, “Plan B?”

“Plan B,” Draco agreed. He reached a hand out and Harry took it, grimacing at the feel of the sticky drying blood. They hadn’t wanted it to come to this, but the only choice they had now was to Apparate out. Harry would be exposed, but it was better than being dead. 

“Hang on tight,” Draco said by way of warning. 

A moment later Draco was prying himself from away from Harry, who was screaming in terror. Draco threw his hand over Harry’s mouth to muffle the screams and tried to quiet him to no avail. He looked Harry over and saw no discernible injuries.

“Be quiet,” Draco hissed. He cast a privacy bubble around them. “Stop bloody screaming and tell me what’s wrong!” 

Harry withered on the ground, unaware of Draco's pleas.

—

Wherever Harry was, it was dark. Not dark enough that he couldn’t see. Because he could see. The problem was  _ what _ he was seeing. It was black and moving towards him with deliberate steps. Harry knew what it wanted, but he wasn’t going to go without a fight.

He shouted at it, a wordless cry, but the meaning was clear:  _ No _ .

It didn’t listen to him and continued forward. Just an outline, just a shadow of a manifestation. It placed its sheer hands on Harry’s shoulders and leaned in to press its forehead to his.

Harry stopped screaming at the touch. Now that the thing's face was so close to his, he could make out features on its face. But he didn’t need to see it because he already  _ knew _ what it looked like. And then its eyes snapped open. Harry looked into eyes as green as his mother's, and the screams came again.

—

Draco had just gotten off of the phone when Harry woke up. He was laying on a hard bed on top of the covers and his whole body hurt. The last thing he could remember was taking Draco’s hand and then - he shot up, Draco’s name dying on his lips as he came in to view.

“You’re awake,” Draco said, not moving from the chair he was sitting in.

“What happened?” Harry’s voice was whisper thin.

“We Apparated and you passed out, screaming bloody murder the whole way. I ended up stunning you.”

Harry looked around the small room, it was clearly a modest hotel room, but Harry didn’t know where. “Where are we?”

“Rome still,” Draco answered. “I didn’t think it was safe to take us any farther. Plus, they’d probably expect us to leave the city entirely.”

“Thank you,” Harry murmured looking at his hands. He looked up and found Draco watching him with an expression he couldn’t quite read. 

“I healed them,” Draco informed him. 

He slid off the bed and moved towards Draco who watched him every step of the way. Harry stopped in front of the chair and grasped Draco's hand. It was warm in his palm.

“We’re alive,” Harry said, and without meaning to he began to laugh. Loud, wan laughs that made his eyes water. Draco looked at him like he’d grown an extra head, but didn't pull away. 

“Have you gone mad?”

“No,” Harry wiped his eyes. “No, I don’t think so.” 

He slid to his knees, still clutching Draco’s hand and pressed his face into Draco’s leg, just to feel something solid. He knew he shouldn’t do it, knew Draco would yell at him to listen, but he didn’t care right now, he couldn’t stop himself right now. He needed this.

Draco tensed under Harry’s touch and he tried to look anywhere but at the top of Harry’s head between his legs. Harry brought Draco’s hand to his face and whispered, “please,” into Draco’s palm.

Draco tried not to groan. They shouldn’t do this. Not again. “We can’t fly brooms to Tibet,” Draco said, hoping to change the subject.

Harry wasn’t listening, instead he pressed, “Draco,” into his finger with his lips. He couldn't think about what they had to do next, he could only think about how they had made it this far. They had the cross and they were  _ alive _ . Didn't Draco see how wonderful that was? Wasn't he just vibrating with the thought of it?

Draco swallowed. “I’ve got a private jet coming.” Harry nuzzled further between Draco’s legs. He could feel Harry's breath caressing his dick. “It should be ready to go in a few hours.”

“I’ll be good,” Harry told him. “I’ll be so good, Draco,  _ please _ .” Draco scrubbed his free hand over his face, knowing he’d lost the moment Harry had said please. 

“Show me how good you can be.” 

Harry pulled back, his pupil-less eyes alight with an emotion Draco couldn’t put his finger on. Lust? Gratitude? Not strong enough, not right for the way Harry was kneeling for him.

_ Adoration _ .

“Go stand over there.” Draco pointed to a spot not far from him. “And take off your clothes.”

Harry did as he was told, stripping off his dirty shirt first. Draco stood and walked around him in a circle, watching as he undressed. The feel of Draco’s eyes on him made Harry shiver. When he was naked, he turned to look at Draco, only to be stopped by his voice.

“Don’t turn around, don’t move. You’re going to be good for me, aren’t you?” Harry stayed where he was but nodded. “You can talk.”

“Yes,” Harry said. “I want to be good - I want to listen.”

“I know,” Draco said coming to a stop behind Harry. “I want you to be good, too.” He took the tip of his finger and let it run down Harry’s spine. “Don’t move,” he reminded him when he felt Harry shudder. His finger dipped lower, ghosted over the line where his cheeks separated.

Draco moved to stand in front of Harry, placed his finger on Harry’s lips and said, “Open.”

Harry never thought a single finger in his mouth could make him feel so good. But Draco’s digit swirling around in his mouth felt almost as good as if it were his dick. Harry sucked dutifully on the finger before Draco pulled it out, spreading spit across Harry’s bottom lip. “Good boy,” Draco said and Harry flushed at the praise. 

Draco moved his slick finger down to rub at Harry’s nipple, hardening the bud to attention. Harry moaned and pushed into the touch.

“Oh, Harry, I said not to move,” Draco sighed and pulled away. Harry almost cried at the loss.

“I’m sorry,” Harry whimpered as Draco moved back to the chair and sat down.

“You know you have to listen. Can you try again for me?”

“Yes,” Harry agreed readily.

“Good. Go ahead and touch yourself for me, nice and slow,” Draco instructed. Harry moved his hand down to his hard cock and began to stroke it. “That’s it Harry, you’re listening so well.”

Harry gave Draco a small smile and concentrated on keeping his jerks smooth and steady. Even though he wanted to pick up the pace, to pull himself off hard and fast, he wanted to be good for Draco more. He slid his hand up and down, smearing the precome that had gathered at the head along the shaft to ease the way. All the while Draco murmured encouragement. Harry never once looked away from Draco.

“Do you want more?” Draco asked. “Or do you want to come like this?”

“More,” Harry answered before Draco could even finish his sentence. At a raised eyebrow from Draco, he added, “Please.”

“Alright, since you asked so politely.” Draco smirked. “Turn around.” Harry’s mouth fell into a frown but he did as he was told. “On your knees, and bend over, face on the ground.” The carpet was rough against Harry’s cheek, and he knew already that he was going to end up with rug burn, but he  _ wanted _ it.

“Look at you,” Draco admired. “Listening so well and looking so sweet for me.” Draco wanted nothing more than to walk over there and pry the globes of Harry’s arse cheeks apart, but he wasn’t willing to take it that far. So, he settled for the next best thing. “Hold yourself open for me, Harry, I want to see you.”

Harry hesitated for a moment, before reaching back and spreading himself apart for Draco. He was sure that if he could blush, he’d be as red as a brick by now. He’d never felt so exposed before, so wide open both physically and figuratively. It was intoxicating. Behind him Draco made an appreciative noise, and Harry felt a jolt of pleasure starting from his toes.

“Spread your legs a little wider,” Draco told him and Harry obeyed. “Can you do a lube charm, or do you need me to do it?”

“I can do it,” Harry replied, and he almost pulled his hand away until he remembered Draco told him not to move. He was going to be good, he was going to listen. “But I need to move my hand.”

“Go ahead,” Draco said. Harry pulled one hand away and Draco mourned the loss of the unobstructed view of Harry’s hole. Harry’s hand was back a moment later and it hovered unsure near his cheek. “Prepare yourself. But don’t put it in just yet, just tease the rim.” Harry groaned as his finger traced the outside of his hole. He felt it shutter and suckle at his finger, encouraging it forward, but he resisted the temptation. He teased the sensitive skin of his rim like Draco had told him. “That’s it, Harry. You must be really ready for something else now, hm?”

“Please,” Harry breathed.

Merlin, but Harry sounded wrecked. Draco had long since gotten used to the strange breathy voice, but the heat in it now nearly sent him over the edge. “Put a finger in and fuck yourself.”

Harry gasped when the finger slipped in, a welcome relief that he knew wouldn’t be enough for long. His cock was leaking between his leg and he wanted nothing more than to slam three fingers in and fuck himself stupid until Draco got up to do it himself. Draco hadn’t said he needed to go slow, so he worked the finger in and out as fast as he could at the angle he was at.

“You’re fucking gagging for it aren’t you?” Draco asked. Unable to only watch any longer, he popped the button on his jeans, undid the zipper, and pulled his own hard dick out. “Put another one in.” Draco watched, fascinated, as Harry’s fingers disappeared into his hole. He reached down and started to jerk his cock with strong sure strokes. He watched Harry finger fuck himself for a few more moments before he told him to sit up. “Show me how much you want it, Harry. Show me how good you can be for me.”

Harry pushed himself off of the floor and straddled the air, sinking back down onto his fingers. At this angle, he could reach much deeper, but he still needed more. “Another, please.”

“Go ahead, Harry. You’re taking it so well. I bet you’d take my cock like you were made for it. Ride it so hard, you couldn’t sit for a week, and you’d love that, wouldn’t you? Every time you sat down, you’d remember what it was like to have my cock up your arse, filling you up, you begging me so sweetly for it. Look at how greedy your arse is. I bet you could get your whole hand in there if you tried.” Draco’s words were egging Harry on and by now he was all but slamming himself into the carpet. Draco wouldn’t be surprised if he broke a bone. “You close, Harry?”

“Yes, so close, Draco, please.” Harry needed something, anything, a hand on his dick, a cock in his arse, his nipple between teeth, he just needed to come.

“You want to come?”

“Can I?” Harry asked, his fingers brushing deep in himself, brushing his spot. The spark of pleasure bliss that it released was making him dizzy.

“Go on,” Draco told him, and while he regretted not making Harry turn around so he could see him, he couldn’t take his eyes away from how well Harry fucked himself.

Harry reached down and pulled twice at his cock before coming with a shout. Harry’s shoulders sagged forward but he caught himself before he fell.

“Turn around,” Draco said.

Harry turned, and his dick gave a half-hearted twitch at the sight before him. Draco was fully clothed, stroking his dick like it was the most natural thing in the world. For all accounts, he looked completely unbothered by Harry’s little performance. If it weren’t for the sweat beading at his upper lip and the precome dripping down the side of his thick cock, Harry would think he wasn’t at all interested.

“Come here.” Harry immediately crawled to Draco. Draco couldn’t quite stop the moan at Harry  _ crawling _ to him. Harry sat back on his heels in front of Draco and waited. Draco’s voice was curt when he spoke, belying no trace of how far gone he truly was.  “I can come on your face or chest - which do you prefer?”

Harry closed his eyes and opened his mouth. Draco came on the spot. Harry swallowed down the come on his tongue and licked his lips for more. Draco reached up and swiped some off his cheek. 

“You did so well, Harry, you were so good for me. I’m proud of you.” Harry whimpered at the words and sucked at the come covered thumb resting on his lips.

As much as Draco wished he could look at Harry covered in his come all night, they had places to be. He spelled off the rest of the mess and pulled Harry up off the floor.

“You can get some rest for awhile,” Draco told him, leading him towards the bed. He shoved him under the covers and went to clean up the rest of the room when Harry grabbed him by the wrist. “What is it?”

“Thank you,” Harry whispered, eyes already closed.

Draco didn’t reply, just waited for him to fall asleep before cleaning up the mess on the carpet. He checked the time and found they still had an hour or so before they needed to leave for the airport. In the meantime, Harry could sleep.


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> CW: Drowning

“I thought you said you wouldn’t go on a plane,” Harry said as he climbed to the steps to the jet. “Or is this another one of those 'I like planes but they don’t like me' situations?”

In front of him, Draco snorted. “Planes are primitive. They’re slow and boring. You can’t even feel the clouds when you fly through them.” He took a drink from the flight attendant's waiting hand and moved into the plane. "But if you have a better idea how to travel 4,000 miles without magic, I'm all ears."

Harry couldn't argue with him there. He took the other drink the attendant was holding with a smile and followed Draco inside. The cabin of the jet was spacious enough. There was a set of two single seats facing each other with a table in-between on either side and two couches behind them. Draco sat on the right hand side facing the cockpit and Harry sat opposite of him.

As soon as Harry sat down, Draco leaned over and plucked his drink from his hand. 

“Hey!” Harry protested, but it was weak even to his own ears. He didn't want the drink, but he’d liked that they had given him one.

“The last thing you or I need is your inhibitions even  _ lower _ .” Draco signaled the attendant and handed the drink back with a murmured excuse Harry couldn’t understand.

“So care to fill me in on this, or is this another need to know basis thing, too?” Harry asked when the attendant had left. “God knows Draco Malfoy can’t make a plan without it being a crown secret.”

“Can you at least wait until after take-off to be irritating?” Draco snapped.

“No,” Harry answered, not in the least bit sorry. Harry watched Draco cross and uncross his legs a few times, huffing. He shifted in his seat a few more times before removing the pillow behind him.

“You’re afraid of flying!” Harry crowed, pointing at finger at him. Draco narrowed his eyes. 

“That has to be the most imbecilic thing I’ve ever heard you or anyone else say. And that’s including the time Greg asked me if people in Australia walked on their hands.”

Harry let out a bark of laughter at that, it was sharp and terse but Draco somehow liked it anyway. 

“He didn’t!”

“He did. He thought that because they were at the bottom of the Earth, they must have to walk on their hands to keep all blood from rushing to their heads. We were fifteen.”

“I want to laugh, but I kinda feel bad,” Harry admitted.

“Don’t. Greg may be an idiot, but he’s the most well adjusted idiot I’ve ever met.”

The captain announced that they would be taking off shortly and the plane started to taxi down the runway. Draco tightened his seat belt before knocking back his drink.

“So, what is it?” Harry asked.

“Don’t be cryptic, Harry,” Draco sneered. “So what is what?”

“What is it that makes you afraid of flying?”

“I’m not  _ afraid _ . I just don’t like the idea of soaring through the sky at break-neck speed in a glorified metal container where I have no control,” Draco replied. At that moment the plane began to pick up speed and Draco was thrown back into his chair, clutching at the arm rests.

Harry smiled. “It’s the take-off isn’t it?”

“It’s the take-off,” Draco agreed. “And the landing.”

“Thank you,” Harry said.

“For what? Telling you I was afraid of flying? No one will believe you, you know.”

Harry shook his head. “No - well yeah, kinda. It’s nice to see you’re not so put together all the time. But I meant for taking the plane, even though you didn’t want to. And also for breaking into the Vatican for me. And the, uhm, the other stuff.”

Draco looked out of the window, unable to face Harry in such a moment of honesty. He wasn’t used to people saying what they really meant to him. Everyone he knew had a motive. Everyone had some kind of agenda they were pushing, every word and gesture they made was orchestrated. Harry was never like that. He never thought before he spoke, and everything he did, he did in sincerity. 

“Yes, well, I do owe you a life debt.”

“I know,” Harry said. “But you don’t owe me your life.”

Draco glanced at Harry, but he was looking out of the window. Draco stared at him for a moment longer before he, too, turned back to watch their ascent into the clouds.

—

Draco fell asleep about an hour into the flight. Harry wished he could sleep, too, but he didn’t really think it was a good idea seeing as they were suspended in the air moving at 500 miles per hour. He needed to be alert in case the wraith appeared again.

Draco had downed two more drinks after they had reached cruising altitude. He had passed out as soon as the glass was taken from his hand.

Harry felt a stab of guilt at that. He wasn’t sure how much sleep Draco had gotten since they’d started out. It felt like they’d been doing this months, even though Harry had only walked into Draco’s office a little over two weeks ago.

It was strange, but Harry was growing rather fond of Draco. He knew he was doing it backwards. But it was one thing to have sex with a person... Liking them was a different matter altogether. 

Draco was intelligent, and he made Harry  _ think _ . Hermione had a tendency to assume everyone knew as much as she did, and when she found out they didn’t, she got annoyed. Draco would offer up information to test if Harry knew it. If he didn’t, he’d explain it in a way that let Harry arrive at the conclusion himself. It didn’t make Harry feel as dumb as he did when he was talking to Hermione.

He’d been surprisingly funny and much braver than Harry had expected. And while he was still a right prick, it wasn't as much as their school days. Or perhaps Harry had gotten used to it. But either way, Harry didn't hate spending time with him.

And it seemed like Draco didn’t exactly hate him either. Life debt or no, Draco had risked his for Harry’s. He’d taken care of Harry. It was almost like they were friends. Very antagonistic friends, but friends nonetheless.   

But then, Harry wondered if he was somehow making this whole thing up. What if his brain was seeing things that weren’t there because he wanted to see them. What if he was just so lonely and desperate that he was pinning all of that on Draco. He hadn’t had an actual conversation with anyone other than Draco in months.

A snuffle startled Harry from his thoughts and he looked back to Draco to find him snoring softly. Harry smiled to himself. He hadn't been lying when he said Draco had snored.

—

About four hours into the flight, Draco woke up to Harry kicking him in the shin.

“You wanker,” Draco mumbled, rubbing his eyes. “What is it?”

“Are you hungry? They’re gonna bring us food.”

“Are you serious? You woke me up for that?” Even with sleep puffing his eyes, Draco’s glare was still effective, and it made Harry want to laugh a little. Draco flipped him the bird and crossed his arms. “You’re a menace.”

Harry shrugged. “I’ve been called worse.”

Draco rolled his eyes as the flight attendant approached with the food cart. “Yes, but never anything so accurate.”

“I don’t know, someone used to call me ‘Saint Potter,’ and I think that was pretty spot on.” Harry smirked at Draco’s scowl. They continued to bicker as the flight attendant served them their food with a bright smile.

“So you still haven’t told me what’s going to happen,” Harry said when they were half way through the plates.

“We’re flying into Lhasa and our guide will meet us there. Which reminds me, here’s your passport.” Draco produced a passport out of thin air and handed it to him.

“Why do we need a guide?” Harry asked, taking the passport.

Draco took a bite of potato before answering. “Because they don’t let anyone into Tibet, wizarding or otherwise. Plus, we need a third.”

Harry nodded, not really understanding that. He looked at the visa in his passport that allowed him entrance to China, and another for Tibet. “How did you even get my passport?”

“I didn’t, it’s fake.”

Harry turned it over in his hands, looking for some sign that it wasn’t real and finding none. He placed it to the side and went back to his food. 

“You can speak Chinese, too, can’t you?”

Draco paused, fork half way through his mouth, his lips pulled back in disdain. 

“First of all, just because I’m half Asian, doesn’t mean I can speak Chinese." He scoffed and set the fork down. "And second of all, I’m  _ Korean.  _ And besides I was born in England, so why would you assume that I can speak Chinese?”

“Jesus, Draco, calm down. I  _ know _ you’re Korean, your cousin was my godfather, remember? I was only asking because I know you can speak at least four languages, so I thought maybe you might know five.  _ Plus _ Cho Chang told me you once called her a ‘green tea bitch,’ which she said was a lot more hurtful when you called her it  _ in Chinese _ .”

Draco picked his fork back up and grumbled into his food, “She is a green tea bitch.” Harry rolled his eyes. “I can speak Chinese. Father thought it was important to know for business. Wasn’t hard to pick up seeing as I already knew Korean.”

“Just how many languages can you speak?” Harry asked.

“Speak fluently or to communicate?”

“Both.”

“Eight, but I’d say I’m only fluent in four.” Draco went back to eating.

“Damn. I can only do English,” Harry said.

Draco smiled. “And you’re hardly accomplished in that.”

—

It was a little after five a.m. when they landed in Lhasa. Even though they were the only ones in line, security took the better part of thirty minutes with all the questions they were asking. Harry almost Confunded the agent, but Draco caught his eye before he could do it. When they finally made it to the arrival terminal, Draco started towards a man who was wearing a bright orange robe, holding a sign Harry couldn’t read.

“Wang Peng?” Draco asked as they neared. The man, who Harry assumed was Wang Peng, pressed his hands together and bowed his head a little, and Draco did the same. Harry thought he should too, and gave a weak little bow that Draco gave him serious side-eye for.

Wang Peng pointed towards the exit, and they headed out. Wang Peng and Draco spoke in Chinese, and every once in awhile gestured to Harry. He trailed behind, feeling a little lost and little annoyed.

Draco could feel Harry getting irritated behind him, so he turned around and whispered, “Why don't you cast a translating charm?” Harry immediately felt stupid and Draco knew it.

“Or I could speak English?” Wang Peng interjected. He was pleased at the triumphant grin Harry shot Draco at his revelation. 

“Or we could speak English,” Harry repeated with glee. 

Wang Peng smiled. “I was saying to Cheng Long that it is tiring to fly into this airport when there is another closer to your destination.”

“Who’s Cheng Long?” Harry asked.

“Jackie Chan,” Draco answered, and he and Wang Peng laughed. Harry didn’t see what was so funny.

They headed out to a small car, and Wang Peng got into the driver's seat and Draco into the passenger's. Harry crowded himself into the back and tried not to feel bitter about how great Draco and Wang Peng were getting along. 

“You both must be tired, so please take a rest,” Wang Peng told them. “It will take about four hours.”

Harry still didn’t trust himself to sleep, and Draco was wide awake. Draco and Wang Peng, who Harry figured out was a wizard of some sort by the conversation he and Draco were having in both English and Chinese, chattered away with easy contentment. 

Harry couldn’t keep up with it so instead he watched the mountains go by, and for the first time in a long time, he felt a little bit at ease.

—

It was a past noon when they reach Dam Xung. Wang Peng led them to a campground far away from the town and into an enchanted tent.

“It is best if you are not seen until after the ritual,” Wang Peng explained as the went inside.

“Why?” Harry asked.

“If the ritual does not go the way we hope…” Wang Peng's smile was doleful.

Harry looked between Draco and Wang Peng trying to find the meaning of the words. Draco elaborated, “He means that if the ritual doesn’t work, there will be less questions about our disappearance. We can easily fool the local police into thinking you’re dead, but it’s going to be harder to convince the whole town.”

Wang Peng nodded and continued where Draco left off, “The monks are the only wizards here, and there are not so many of us. The police do not trust us.”

Draco snorted and murmured how  _ that _ was understatement. He looked at Harry and saw him still trying to sort out the information and sighed. “It’s just best to keep out of sight until we’re sure the ritual has worked.”

Harry nodded and swallowed. All at once this all became very real. Tonight could be it for him. He was either going to cured or he wasn't walking away from this. Perhaps even worse. This could very well be his last day on Earth, and he was in this tent with Draco Malfoy and a Tibetan monk he’d just met, thousands of miles away from home.

“Harry.” Draco took an aborted step to him.

Wang Peng moved seamlessly forward, a small, reassuring smile on his face. “You are overwhelmed.” Harry barked a short laugh, and Wang Peng’s smile grew. “It is the nature of here. It is why you have come here. These waters take everything,” Wang Peng explained.

He pushed Harry out of the tent and into the cool fresh air, turning him towards the lake. Draco walked behind them, unwilling to intrude on the moment.

Wang Peng steered Harry to the water's edge. “Long ago, many came here to be cleaned. They left their sorrows, their burdens, their difficulties. And they left their joys, their successes, their pride.”

“Joy?” Harry turned to Wang Peng with a sour look on his face.

Wang Peng tried to find the right words to make Harry understand. Westerners often didn’t see the appeal of what the lake did. They thought it was cruel to take away everything, rather than calming. “It took what was strong, both bad and good. And in return, it gave peace. If you have peace, do you not also have joy?”

Harry thought for a moment and nodded minutely. “I suppose so. But what do you mean it gave? It doesn’t do that anymore?”

Wang Peng turned back to the lake, looking out on it with tired eyes. “This is not the same lake as all those years ago. There is very little left of the original power. If you know the mind of the lake, you can harness it, and the waters can be used to cleanse. But for those who do not, it will only provide a temporary feeling of peace.”

Harry felt like there was more to the story than Wang Peng was telling him, but for once he didn’t feel the need to push. Perhaps the lake was already working, because Harry didn’t feel any of the panic he had in the tent. Maybe tonight was his last, but he thought, as he looked at the mountains framing the lake, this wouldn’t be a bad place to go.

Harry stood there for a long time, taking in the scenery. So long, in fact, that Wang Peng left and headed back inside, tipping his head to Draco who remained rooted behind Harry. It was the first time he had seen Harry look so relaxed. Not even when Harry was on his knees for Draco did he seem so at peace, for that was a band-aid. Here it seemed to be the balm. Even seeing it from behind took Draco’s breath away for reasons he didn’t have time to analyse.

It was a long time before Draco figured out how to make his feet move forward. 

“Harry,” he said softly, resting next to him. Harry turned and smiled at Draco. It wasn’t until Draco saw the jagged edges of Harry’s teeth that he realised the Glamour had faded.

Harry turned back to the lake, that small smile still on his face. Somehow their arms were resting against each other, but it was so light they may as well not have been touching at all. Draco could feel the electric zings of Harry’s magic seeping into his skin. Even with the anticipation of that night hanging over their heads, Draco thought there were worse places to be.

—

It was quiet when they headed towards the shores of the lake. It was an unnatural stillness, like even the cicadas knew how important what they were about to do was. Harry wished there  _ was  _ noise. He wished his footsteps on the rocks would crunch and break the strange silence, but no noise came. 

The water was still when they came upon it, looking almost frozen in the moonlight. He could see the outlines of the mountains, but in the dark they looked like teeth surrounding a black open mouth, ready to swallow him whole.

Wang Peng's voice finally cut through the quiet. “Do not hide your fear, or it will rip it from you.”

Harry looked to him, but Wang Peng wasn’t paying him any attention. Instead he was kneeling on the rocks, eyes closed, prayer beads draped over his gloved hands. 

Draco came up next to him. “Are you ready?” Harry nodded.

“I will begin the chant when you are in the water,” Wang Peng said.

“I’m ready,” Harry replied. He took off his clothes and folded them on the ground with care. He put his arms behind his back and Draco bound them with a spell.

Harry remembered dying. He had walked to his death before. He’d stood at the edge of the forest and spoke his death into existence, and the words had been true. But even though he'd already died, even though he remembered going to die, he wasn’t ready to do it again.

He remembered it didn’t hurt as much as he thought it would. Maybe it depended on how you died. He had heard that drowning was like breathing lava, but he also had heard it was like falling asleep. He hoped it was the latter, because he could do with some sleep.

He stopped at the edge of the water and felt the cold lick the skin of his feet, felt it nip at him, taking just as Wang Peng had said. It lightened him. He could feel Draco behind him, but Draco said nothing. All things considered, he supposed this was a little better than the forest. He moved deeper into the water, heard Draco come in behind him, but didn’t turn around to see him. He wasn’t ready to see him. 

The water was weighing down Draco’s clothes, turning his steps heavy, but he barely registered it. In front of him, Harry moved like he was floating rather than walking. Even though Harry was so pale, his skin seemed dim in the moonlight, like his body already knew the outcome of this, and that gave Draco pause.

Harry stopped when he was waist deep and heard Draco stop behind him. Neither moved to look at each other. He knew he should say something. If these were to be his final words, he supposed he had to make them count, but what could he say? Tell Ron and Hermione I’m sorry and I love them? Tell Molly that she was the best mother I could have asked for? Thank her and Arthur for treating  _ me _ as their own? Tell Ginny I'm alright now, and that she’ll be alright, too? There was nothing he could tell any of them that would really mean anything, because they already knew.

But here was Draco Malfoy, taking him to the ends of the Earth. He was willing to dangle him over the edge and pull him back, when he knew damn well Harry could pull him down with him. He could tell Draco something. He turned to face him. “Draco,” he began, but faltered because he didn’t know what he could say that would  _ matter _ .

Draco watched Harry work through something, watched him try to unknot the right words in his mouth, only to be unable to. He didn’t know why he said it, but as he stood there, with Harry Potter in what might be both their final moments he said the first thing that came to mind.

“Scared, Potter?”

There were tears in Harry’s eyes when he replied. “You wish.” And that was  _ it _ .

Draco turned his head to nod at Wang Peng. The sound of his chanting floated across the water and wrapped around them like fog. Draco took the cross from around his neck, and pressed it to Harry’s chest.

Harry hissed when the cross touched him. It burned. He tried to moved away but Draco caught him around the waist, and shoved him under the water. Harry screamed, but the sound was caught in the water.

Draco pulled him back up, just for a moment, and he gasped before he was pushed back under the water again. The cross was searing into his chest, he was sure it was burrowing itself into his heart.

Draco pulled Harry back out of the water, and he spluttered and coughed. But still Draco saw the amber of his eyes and he pushed him under again, reminding himself this was the only way.

Harry had let out all the air in his lungs and now he was trying to keep the water out. He needed to breathe, and he knew he needed the water to purify him, but he wasn’t ready. Draco pulled him back up and pushed him back down in quick succession and the water beat itself into his mouth.

Above water Draco saw the shadow. He saw it glide towards them across the water in an almost hurried manner. Draco pulled Harry from the water, saw the flash of green in his eyes and pushed him back down again. It was working, he could see the shadow becoming thinner as it approached. Just a few more seconds, and it would be gone.

Below the water Harry’s lungs were filled with needles and his body was burning with cold. He needed to get up, he needed air. He twisted and he felt the bonds around his wrists break. He reached up to catch Draco’s arm, knocking the cross into the lake.

“No!” Draco shouted. But Harry’s head was bursting from the surface, gurgling and coughing up the lake. The shadow was on them in an instant. It grabbed Harry, pulled him back down into the water and disappeared as if they’d neither of them had been there at all. 

  
  



	10. Chapter 10

Draco stumbled out of the water towards a dazed Wang Peng. When he reached him, Wang Peng was still staring out across the lake, eyes glazed over and unseeing. Draco shook him and shouted his name to no avail. Growing frantic, he slapped him across the face.

Wang Peng was slow to come to, and Draco breathed out a prayer. Wang Peng cradled his cheek, looking knowingly but not unkindly at Draco. “What has happened?”

“It took him!” Draco hissed, pulling Wang Peng up by the shoulders. “Something went wrong and it took him and we have to get him back!”

Wang Peng went over the ritual in his head. He saw nothing wrong with what they had done and patted Draco with a comforting hand. “Cheng Long, my friend, I am sorry, but it was not anything we did. He is gone, and you have tried your best.”

“No,” Draco whispered. “He can’t be. Don’t you understand? He’s Harry Potter! He can’t be  _ gone _ .”

“I know that he is important to you, but Harry Potter or not, if it has taken him, it has taken him.” Wang Peng rose to his feet and moved to sit on a nearby rock.

Draco stopped pacing and looked at Wang Peng, the moonlight reflecting off the lake casted just enough light that he could see the pity in Wang Peng’s eyes. Harry Potter important to him? No, his  _ reputation _ was important to him. And Harry? It was just fucking like Harry to go and try to ruin it by getting dragged to Hell. When Draco got him back here, he was going to kill him.

“You are lying to yourself,” Wang Peng said unprompted.

Draco glared at him, knowing that he was right, but still resenting him for it. Because for some unknown reason Harry Potter was important to him. They had spent two weeks together and Draco had put his life in danger more than once for him, and for what? For Harry to fuck off to the Netherworld? Unacceptable.

“We have to bring him back,” Draco demanded. 

“You know that we cannot.”

“You know that we can,” Draco replied. There were ways. There were always ways if someone was willing. And Draco was more than. “I know the words.”

“I will not help you with that,” Wang Peng told him. “It is not my way.”

“You have to!” Draco shouted, pulling at his hair. “We have to get him out of there!” Wang Peng remained impassive, and Draco let out a shout in frustration. “I lied to him, and he didn't deserve that. He doesn't deserve any of this and I need to, I need...” Draco trailed off trying to find to the words that could even come close to what he needed. But there were no words to describe his need to get Harry back. His shoulders slumped in defeat.

“Wang Peng, please, I can’t do it alone. I just need you to hold the line.” He crouched in front of Wang Peng, not quite on his knees, but he would do if need be. If he was willing to do what needed to be done to get Harry back, he was willing to beg for it on his knees. “We don’t have much time.”

Wang Peng gave Draco a hard and searching look. He rifled through Draco’s memories without permission, and without Draco’s notice. He saw him offer his hand to Harry in friendship, felt the anger, confusion, and disappointment of the rejection. He saw him compete and lose to Harry so many times, so many times that Harry didn’t even realise they were competing.

He saw Harry being watched by Draco and vice versa. He felt the panic of being in that toilet when Harry came in, the fear that he’d be caught, the pain of the curse. He saw Harry battered and bruised, heard the woman yelling at Draco to identify him. He saw him lie, he saw him let go of the wands. He felt the grief, the pure anguish when it was said Harry Potter had died, felt the relief, the hope, the joy, when he was alive. And still there was anger, but there was also gratitude.

Wang Peng saw Harry on his knees, and he felt a little guilty about that, but he saw Harry there looking at Draco. He felt the wonder course through him as fiercely as if he’d been there himself. He followed that wonder further and saw Harry flying next to him, saw him in a car grinning, saw him lying in a bed asleep. And he saw Harry disappear, and even though he’d been there, it wasn’t the same. There was shock, there was hurt, and there was always anger.

No time had passed since Wang Peng had read Draco, and Draco was still looking at him with pleading eyes, clutching at his hands. It was not right, what they were going to do, but what had happened to Harry and Draco was not right, either.

Wang Peng took a deep breath. “I will help you.”

Draco sagged in relief. “Thank you,” he whispered before standing up and gathering rocks.

Wang Peng consoled himself with the thought that what they were about to do wasn’t exactly Necromancy, as Harry hadn’t exactly died. It was a small comfort, but it was enough.

He stood up to gather rocks with Draco. They put them in formation and Draco drew in the lines of the rune with his wand. He turned to Wang Peng, “I’ll say the words, I just need you to hold the line.”

Wang Peng nodded. “You have to be quick, if you are too long - ” he began, but Draco cut him off.

“I know. Just let it go. And burn the body." 

“I will pull when you are too long.”

“Thank you,” Draco told him. “Are you ready?” Wang Peng dipped his head and Draco moved to the center of the rune. He pointed his wand at his chest and groaned when the thin silver light shot out of it. He sent it towards Wang Peng who caught it in his gloved hand.

“Good luck,” Wang Peng told him.

Draco nodded to him and called up the words. He shouldn’t know the words, no one should. They didn’t teach them, they didn’t say them, they didn’t write them. But the Manor was old and the books they kept hidden from the Aurors after the war contained them. Even if they had taken them, it wouldn’t have mattered because Draco had committed them to memory the day the Dark Lord stepped into his house.

He took a deep breath and began. The words were old and heavy on his tongue, the more of them he had to say, the more they pricked at the roof of his mouth, scratched at his throat, clawed at his lungs. They weren’t meant to be said, they didn’t  _ want  _ to be said, but if they were to spoken, it would hurt. They would not be told how to arrive.

The rune around him glowed brighter as he repeated the words. It rose up around him, kissed his skin and judged him. He was getting nearer to the end of the words now, and the world around him was tilting. The rune was blinding, the words were hot on his tongue, burning the skin from his mouth. He spoke the last word and it burst in his mouth, a balloon of sandspurs and fury.

Wang Peng watched Draco fall to the ground, gripped his life line, and began to chant.

—

There was a flash of light and it looked over, saw nothing, turned back to look at nothing. It sat beside another it who sat beside another it and all around them it moved and pushed and pulled and took. Sometimes an it would go outside and bring back another. It couldn’t see them, but it knew when they came. It was gathering. It was preparing. It was going. Where was it going?

It was new and it didn’t know what to do. The new its always sat and waited, Harry thought.

Harry. Not it. Harry.

Not Harry. It.

It didn’t know. Harry didn’t know.

That’s why they sat. Because they didn’t know. It didn’t know who would tell them. So it sat. It waited.

_ Harry _ .

Not it. Harry. Harry.  _ Not _ it. Harry. What was Harry? Was it Harry?

It.

It was going somewhere. It could feel movement. Another it sat beside it. They were getting closer. How long had they sat there? Minutes? Centuries? It didn’t know. It didn’t care. It was going to go somewhere.

_ Harry _ .

It.

It could not be Harry. It was  _ it _ . What was Harry? What was it? It was not Harry, and Harry was not it. It was  _ going _ somewhere. It wanted to go.

_ Harry _ .

It?

_ Harry. _

Draco’s body was singing with pain. His head was throbbing and his face was wet with what he could only assume was either tears or blood. This was not a place for a mortal, he shouldn’t be here and the Netherworld knew it. If he dared to trespass into this world, he was going to pay the price.

Everything was dark, but Draco could see. The Netherworld was more or less what he had imagined. Dank and misty, piles of skulls and bones so high they made walls. And sitting on the floor were shadows, shaped like people. There were so many of them, and more were appearing by the second. They were getting antsy. Draco realised they were preparing to leave.

He needed to find Harry soon.

“Harry...” he tried to shout the name, but it died on his lips, turned to ash in the air.

He tried again, “Harry...” A mockery of a cry.

This wasn’t going to work. He moved closer to the figures on the floor. They sat in rows, hardly moving, but somehow getting closer to each other. Sometimes they would turn and look unseeing at something, then they’d go back to sitting with their heads forward. But there was one, moving more than most. That had to be him.

Draco moved towards it, saw the outline of a jaw he knew by heart now. “Harry,” he breathed and it  _ jerked.  _ He reached out a hand just as he felt a tug on his life line. The shadow’s eyes opened, and Draco found a new appreciation for the colour green.

“Harry.”

—

Something touched it. Harry opened his eyes.

Draco tugged on his life line.

—

Wherever Harry was, it was bright. It was so bright that when he opened his eyes he immediately shut them again. The light was still bright against his eyelids, but it was less painful. There was something digging into his back. Rocks.

“Are you awake?” a voice asked.

Harry opened his eyes and saw a man sitting in an orange robe on a rock nearby. Wang Peng, he remembered.

“Yes,” he croaked out. He looked around him, he was still at the lake from last night, but it was day now, that’s why it was so bright. Wang Peng was still looking at him and Harry realised he hadn’t seen Draco. He opened his mouth, but Wang Peng answered before he could ask.

“He is there.” Wang Peng held out a hand towards somewhere behind Harry.

Harry rolled over, and saw Draco lying prone on the ground. Panic seized him as he tried to get to his feet but couldn’t, his legs gave out beneath him.

“He is alive,” Wang Peng said. He watched Harry drag himself across the rocks towards Draco. He wondered if Harry would notice that his hair was in his eyes and there was the beginnings of a beard on his face. He wondered when he would realise that no one but Wang Peng was watching him.

“Draco.” Harry stopped short of him, panting for breath.

“He is not ready to wake,” Wang Peng said.

Harry turned to look at him. “What do you mean?”

“He still needs time,” Wang Peng answered. To travel to the other side took too much from one person. He could feel Draco’s heart beat, but he had trouble feeling for his heart line. In truth, Wang Peng wasn’t sure that Draco would wake up.

Harry brought a hand up to touch Draco’s face, and Wang Peng knew the moment Harry saw flesh on his fingers and not just skin. Harry reached up to touch his face, felt the beard and pulled his hand back.

“What colour are my eyes?” Harry asked.

Wang Peng smiled. “Green, like your mother's.”

Harry blinked at his hand, looked down at Draco, and started to laugh. It was loud and deep and everything Harry was supposed to sound like. Wang Peng felt that relief in more ways than one.

Harry was back. He wasn’t going to die. Draco had done it. 

“Draco, you saved me,” he said between laughter and tears. Harry was still laughing when Draco woke up.

—

Wang Peng led them to a hotel in the town, signed them in and got a room next to theirs. He didn’t ask if they would have preferred separate rooms.

As they walked to their rooms, Wang Peng spoke, “I am sorry that you cannot visit the monastery. But you cannot enter after being where you have been.” It was a shame because Wang Peng would have liked to show them his home; he knew Draco would have enjoyed it. “You need more rest. I am in the room next to yours, if you need anything you can come to me.” They stopped in front of their rooms. “The police will stop you if you are seen without me.”

Harry didn’t understand what Wang Peng meant about where they had been, but he decided he didn’t care right now. “Thank you for everything,” he told him. “We won’t cause any more trouble.”

Wang Peng smiled, but it was sad. “It is not trouble that you have caused, Harry Potter.”

Harry’s brow furrowed at that. Wang Peng said something in Chinese to Draco. Draco’s reply was quick, and he pushed Harry into the room.

The room was small and mainly occupied by a large bed. It looked lumpy and uncomfortable, but after lying on a rock for what turned out to be four days, Draco would take anything he could get. He wanted to shower. He wanted to wash off the dirt and the grime, the sweat and the sin out of his skin, out of his head.

But Harry was hovering in the doorway of the bathroom with the light on. 

“What are you doing?” Draco asked flopping down on the bed.

Harry turned to look at Draco. He was sitting on the bed, his shoulders rounded out in a tiredness that Harry had only seen in old men. Suddenly he didn’t want to burden Draco with this. Harry wanted to look, needed to see that it was gone, because he couldn’t still believe it, but he was afraid.

What if he looked in the mirror, and it spoke back to him? What if he hadn’t really been cured? What if he had finally gone mad, and now he was making this whole thing up?

Instead he shook his head and moved towards Draco. He wanted to touch him, to see if he was real, but he saw Draco tense when his arm reached for him. He pulled it back and walked around him.

“I’m just tired,” Harry lied. He tried not to think about the shadows in the corner of the room where the TV sat on the desk.

Draco hadn’t meant to clench up when Harry had come near him, it was just he wasn’t sure he was ready to be touched. His skin felt raw and hot, and he was positive if Harry touched him, they’d both burn up. He couldn’t give Harry what he needed right now, and, in fact, didn’t even know if that’s what he needed at all.

Draco was too tired for this, even after sleeping for four days. He could sleep for four more. He could sleep for four years, if given the chance. He crawled up the bed to the pillow and fell asleep before he was even all the way down. Harry lay down beside him, far enough away that they weren’t touching. He watched the steady rise and fall of Draco’s chest and whispered to himself, “You’re Harry James Potter, and you’re okay,” over and over until he, too, fell asleep.

—

“There’s no need for us not to Portkey now, but we will have to fly out of here and into the mainland,” Draco explained when they had woken up about two days later.

“Why can’t we get a Portkey here?” Harry asked, rubbing the sleep from his eyes.

“International Portkeys to Tibet are heavily regulated,” Draco replied. “It could take months for them to approve us.”

Harry shrugged and reached his hand out for his glasses. He didn’t know how long Draco had been up, but it seemed like a while. Harry realised he didn’t even know what day it was. “How long was I asleep?”

“A day and a half or so,” Draco replied, fussing about tucking his button down in the front of his dark jeans.

Harry noted that Draco looked tired for certain, but still like he could absolutely fuck Harry six ways from Sunday. But the urge to have Draco bend him over a chair wasn’t all-consuming. He didn’t feel as if he would stop breathing if he wasn’t naked at Draco’s feet within next ten seconds. He could  _ control _ himself.

“What on Earth are you smiling about like that?” Draco snipped.

“I don’t want to fuck you,” Harry said before he could stop himself. He couldn’t even blame it on anything but his own inability to keep his mouth  _ shut _ . Draco’s face darkened and Harry rushed to explain himself. “No! I mean I do want to fuck you because, ah, you’re good-looking and stuff, but what I meant was-”

“Save it, Potter,” Draco interrupted him. “You don’t have to explain yourself to me.”

“Draco, listen, I meant-”

Draco was already walking towards the door. “Wang Peng and I have some things to do, so why don’t you take a shower or something. Don’t leave this room without your cloak, though. I’ll be back later.”

“Okay, but Draco, I-” Harry’s words died in his throat as Draco shut the door behind him.

Harry sighed and lay back down on the bed. He pushed his glasses up and pressed the heels of his palms into his eyes. Had he always been this stupid? Something that sounded like Hermione’s voice told him that it was probably yes.

He threw his arm over his head in irritation and got a whiff of himself. Draco was right, a shower was in order. Harry got up and stood in the doorway of the darkened bathroom. He turned on the lights, but grimaced at how dim they were. He had already magically brightened them when he realised he didn’t actually need to. Still, he didn’t change them back.

He shuffled his feet on the threshold of the bathroom. The pause gave him time to notice that his hands were shaking. He snorted in disgust at himself. He was  _ better _ . He should be able to walk into this bathroom, look at himself in the mirror, without having to talk himself into it.

He was  _ fine _ . They had told him he was fine. He felt fine. But what if he walked into that bathroom, looked in that mirror, and Harry wasn’t there? Even worse - what if it was Harry there? But not the Harry he remembered? What if he wasn’t Harry at all?

Harry stumbled back as the thought hit him like a Bludger. He moved back towards the bed and by the time he got there, he was gasping for breath and convulsing. He put his head between his knees and tried to get his breathing under control. When the tremors had passed and breathing didn't feel like drowning, he fell back onto the bed.

Tears stung his eyes and at the thought of crying over something so stupid, Harry did just that. He pushed away his glasses and rubbed at his eyes so hard it hurt, but it didn’t nothing to stop his crying. He took several deep breaths, and finally the tears subsided. Angry and ashamed that he couldn’t even perform the simplest of tasks, he cast a cursory refreshing charm and went back to sleep.

—

The next day, Wang Peng drove them to the airport. The car ride was somehow more tense than the first one. Draco and Wang Peng spoke in hushed tones in the front of the car while Harry dozed in the back. He didn’t have the energy to even pretend to be interested in chatting.

The flight to Beijing was just as uneventful, but the Chinese Ministry of Magic’s travel department was nothing short of organised chaos. They barely made it to the correct Portkey room with how many changes were happening.

But now they were finally back on English soil, and it felt like Harry had been away for decades. Everything looked bright and new, but old and familiar, and he couldn’t help the dumb grin on his face that came from the high of just being outside. No Glamour, no spells, no fear that something would come and take him. People were staring at him, not because they were afraid, but because they  _ knew  _ him. He was Harry James Potter.

“Well, I can’t say it’s been a pleasure,” Draco said once the were out in the Atrium. 

“Right, listen, Draco, I just want you to know how much I appreciate everything that you did and I-”

Draco held up a hand and cut off whatever else Harry was about to say. “Don’t mention it, Potter.” Draco had been about to use Harry’s given name, when he remembered there was no need for that and as a result the ‘Potter’ came out much harsher than intended.

“Draco,” Harry began, looking hurt.

“Look, you hired me for a job. I’ve done my job, and not to mention paid off a life-debt. You don’t have to thank me. You don’t owe me anything other than an extraordinary amount of Galleons which I will bill to you.” Harry opened his mouth to say something else, but Draco really didn’t want to hear. He couldn’t hear it. “Have a nice life, Potter.”

With that Draco stepped back and Apparated out of the Atrium.

  
  



	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> CW: Miscarriage mention

Harry stood under his invisibility cloak on the pavement outside of Grimmauld Place, shuffling his feet. He knew that if he entered, the wards would trigger and Ron or Hermione would come through in an instant. He wanted to see them, he did, he had missed them so much in the past few months, but he wasn’t sure he was ready. He’d waited a week almost already.

He knew they would be angry, that they had been angry for a long time. A part of him worried that they wouldn’t accept his apology, his reasonings. They could tell him to fuck off, that he’d betrayed their friendship, and they’d have every right to because he had done it. He had made the decision to go.

Another part of him knew they wanted to see him as much as he wanted to see them. They’d yell at him no doubt, but they'd be happy to see him. But, he thought, looking up at the aging house, he shouldn’t do it like this. He should go to them, not the other way around.

He Apparated on the spot.

Ron and Hermione lived in a good-sized cottage not far from London. They both Flooed into work every day and they liked being away from the noise of the city. They said it would be better for the kids to grow up where they could run around and play.

They had waited until they were both settled in their careers a bit more before trying for kids. And when it had happened pretty much after the first try, Harry couldn’t have been happier. But then he had gotten cursed, and Hermione had lost the baby. Hermione and Ron never blamed him, but Harry knew it was his fault. There was no reason for her to stress over anything but Harry.

So when he had found out she was pregnant again, he’d left. He knew afterwards that it was counterintuitive, but he also knew he was becoming more unhinged and he couldn’t have Hermione around that. Hermione would rip him a new one, but she'd understand. 

It was Ron he was worried about. Ron would have taken Harry’s absence to heart. He probably thought that Harry had left because he didn’t trust Ron enough to help him. And he’d be even angrier because Harry had only written a handful of times since then. He’d see it as Harry abandoning him.

He was still under the invisibility cloak when he walked up the path way. The door opened when he was half way up and Ron appeared and squinted out into the front garden. Harry froze. Ron disappeared from the doorway but left it open so Harry could hear him shouting for Hermione.

He heard them exchange words, but couldn't make them out. Hermione came barreling out of the doorway as fast as she could, and her eyes scanned the garden. Harry knew he was caught.

“You take that cloak off right now!” Hermione shouted in his general direction.

Harry pulled off the cloak off, his head popping out with a sheepish look on his face. Hermione was already in his arms crying by the time he’d taken the whole thing off, Ron shouting at her to slow down from the door.

“Oh, God, Harry,” she sobbed into his neck. “It’s not a trick, is it? You’re here and you’re okay?”

“I’m here, Hermione, I’m okay,” he said, voice tight with emotion. He squeezed his eyes shut and reveled in the feel of Hermione’s embrace.

“You stupid bloody fucking idiot! I hate you,” she cried, hitting him even as she tried to draw him closer.

“I know, I know, I’m sorry.” Harry was crying now, too. He was so grateful that she was even letting him near her. He opened his eyes and saw Ron had gone inside the house and his heart clenched.

Finally Hermione pulled back to and took him in. “It’s really gone. You’re really okay.”

“Yeah, well, mostly. I’m adjusting,” Harry told her.

Hermione looked back towards the house to see where Ron was and sighed when she saw the closed door. She knew Ron was as worried as she was, was as happy as she was to see Harry alive and okay, but her husband was a little sensitive. He had taken Harry leaving much harder than anyone else. 

“He missed you,” Hermione told Harry. “He’s angry, but he missed you.”

“He should be angry. You both should be,” Harry said, looking away.

“Let’s not talk about it right now. You need to go see Ron.”

Hermione held onto Harry’s arm even after they entered the house, as if she were afraid he would disappear if she let him out of her sight. Ron wasn’t in the sitting room or the bedroom. 

“He’s probably in the nursery,” Hermione whispered. “He goes in there sometimes, to think.” It was only when Harry pushed open the door to the nursery that Hermione let him go, closing the door behind him. 

Ron didn’t look at him as he entered. He stared at the empty crib from his place in an old rocking chair, pretending Harry wasn't there.

Harry looked around the room, pleased to see it was filled with light and warmth. Almost no shadows for something nasty to hide in. He was getting better about not worrying about the shadows, but he still didn't like them. 

The silence was tense and long, and Harry couldn’t stand it anymore. “Mate,” he started, and Ron jumped out of the chair, eyes blazing.

“Don’t you dare,” he hissed, pointing a finger at Harry. “Don’t you fucking dare.”

“Ron,” Harry tried again.

“You know I’ve been lying to Mum about where you’ve been? Been telling her you're off in America looking for a voodoo priestess or in India with shamans, and they all know I’m fucking lying, but they don’t say anything. They all know that you couldn’t even be bothered to tell your best fucking  _ mate _ where you were.” He let out a bitter laugh and sat back in the rocking chair. He was tired. Tired of worrying about Harry, tired of Hermione worrying about Harry, and most of all tired of being mad at him. “Why’d you do it?”

Harry wished he could look away from Ron. He wished he didn’t have to see the hurt so plain on his face like it had been carved into his skin, scarred over but unfading. But he couldn’t, he had to look Ron in the eye and tell him the truth. 

“I didn’t want you to lose another baby because of me.” His voice was thin as he spoke but it didn’t waver. “I couldn’t let you be unhappy because of me.”

Ron’s face softened at little, because wasn’t that so like Harry? To take all the blame on himself and not let anyone know he was hurting. 

“Merlin take it, Harry.” Ron rubbed his hand over his face. “Why do you always think you have to do these things alone? If you had just told us…” Ron trailed off, trying to hold on to his anger. He shouldn’t let Harry off this easy.

“I know, I’m sorry. But you know that if I told you why I was leaving, you’d try to stop me and I just - I needed to go, Ron, it was getting so bad, and I couldn’t stand it if I hurt you.”

Ron groaned as he put his head in his hands, his anger fading like a burnt out match. “You tosser,” he whispered. “You utter wanker.”

“Ron?” Harry hedged.

Ron stood up and closed the distance between them, pulling Harry into a bone-crushing hug. “I swear to Merlin, if you ever pull something like this again, I will never forgive you.”

Harry laughed, a light and hopeful sound, full of relief and gratitude.. “I promise I won’t.” And they both knew that even if he did, Ron would still forgive him.

“Oh, I’m so happy you’ve made up!” a watery voice came from the doorway. They turned to see Hermione wiping her eyes with an already damp handkerchief.

“Were you eavesdropping?” Ron demanded, but there was no bite to it.

“Of course I was, Ronald!” Hermione cried. “What did you expect?”

Ron gave a long suffering sigh, that was so full of love that Harry thought his own heart might burst. “Honestly? Nothing less.”

“I’m just so happy and a little gassy, so I’m sorry, but I need to hug you both,” she said as she moved in to pull them into a hug.

“A little gassy?” Ron repeated and then to Harry, “You need a gas mask to walk behind her. I’m pretty sure she made herself black out with the force of it the other day.”

“Ew,” Harry said, as Hermione yelled, “Oi!” and hit him. They all laughed and Harry knew they were going to be okay.

—

“So, Blaise tells me that you and Potter seemed quite close,” Pansy said as she settled into his settee and kicked off her heels. They had just come from some new bar that one of the Patil twins had been raving about, that turned out to be utter shite. They’d headed back to Draco’s with the intention of making themselves better drinks.

“Must you always take what Blaise says at face value? He could tell you I fucked a dragon and you’d still ask me about it,” Draco grumbled, sitting opposite of her.

Pansy snorted. “I don’t, but I know for a fact this one is true.”

“And how do you know that?”

“Because you’ve been obsessed with Potter since you were eleven. Anyone with eyes could see all that animosity was a cover for unresolved sexual tension.” Pansy gave him a look that dared him to lie to her.

Draco sighed, there was no point in trying to hide it from her. “Oh for Merlin’s sake, Pansy, fine. We were ‘close’ but it's not in any way that you’re thinking.”

“So you didn’t - how did Blaise put it? - fuck him into Play-Dough. Not sure I understand that exactly, but I get the gist.”

“It’s a Muggle toy. Moldable clay,” Draco said absently, running a finger along the rim of his glass. He really didn’t want to talk about this, but Pansy wouldn’t let it drop until she was satisfied. “And no, I didn’t fuck him, not exactly.”

“Not exactly?” She repeated, perking up a bit. “Blaise said he tried to hug you and Potter almost AK’d him, so what does 'not exactly' mean?”

Draco rolled his eyes. “Oh please, who doesn’t want to murder Blaise as soon as he opens his mouth?” Pansy couldn’t argue with that, but she gave Draco an expectant look. “Harry was just a little…territorial. It was the curse he was under.” She blinked at him.

“Harry?” She repeated. “Harry was a little territorial?”

Draco pinched the bridge of his nose. “You  _ know _ that names have magic. He wasn’t himself and I - fuck, Pansy, why must you be this way?”

Pansy gave him a slow smile. “Because I love watching you suffer. Now stop fucking dancing around the truth and tell me what really happened.”

Draco turned to look at her and was unable hold it in any longer. What he had done rose up in his throat and he choked on it, tears sprang to his eyes, and he let them fall, unheeded.

Pansy had seen Draco cry exactly two time since they were nine. The first was when Harry had humiliated him by refusing to shake his hand, and the second was when he had told her about the Mark. For Draco to be crying now… She set down her glass, took Draco’s from his, and pulled him to her chest. She murmured soothing words as he cried, running her hands down his back.

“It took him,” Draco stuttered out. “It took him to the other side and Pansy, I did something bad. I did something so, so bad.” Pansy tried to process what Draco was saying and alarm bells ringing in her ears as she put the pieces together. She couldn’t bear to hear what Draco was going to say next, and Draco didn’t want to say it, but he had to. “I said the words,” he whispered.

Pansy choked, tried to swallow the rising bile, and pulled Draco closer to her. “Oh, Draco,” she whispered through her own tears. “It’s okay.”

“I know I shouldn’t have done it,” he admitted. “I just - I saw it take him and I panicked. I didn’t want him to go. I just - he didn’t - ” Draco broke off in a sob. 

“I know, Draco, I know.” Pansy sighed as he looked down at her mess of a best friend. He’d done the unforgivable, a thing people only spoke about in whispers. It was the greatest offence and Draco had done it without a second thought to save Harry Potter.

“He doesn’t know what you did, does he?” Otherwise why would Draco be here crying into her shoulder and not out there with Harry?

“No. He’d hate me for it,” Draco said. “ _ I _ hate me for it.”

“Do you regret it?” Pansy asked.

“No,” Draco replied instantly and it was true. He knew what he had done was unforgivable, but he’d do it again. He’d do it a hundred times if he had to.

“Draco, I know you don’t want to hear this, but I really think you ought to tell him.”

“For what?” Draco snorted in pulled away, pressing his palms into his eyes. “What good would that do me? He’d just think I was telling him so I could get something from him.”

Pansy sighed. “That’s not what I meant,” she said.

Draco wasn’t listening to her though. “How would I even tell him? Hello, Potter, do you remember that time I saved you from becoming a demon? Well, it’s actually because I crossed over to the other side using a very old, very illegal, and very Dark spell and dragged you back here because I for some reason couldn’t stand the idea of this Earth without your stupid fucking face on it.”

“You know I think that would work,” Pansy admitted. Gryffindors were into honesty.

“Out of the question,” Draco said, standing up. He couldn’t think about this anymore. Couldn’t talk about it, he had to do something. “I think I’m going to go for a fly.”

“It’s almost two in the morning, Draco, don’t you think you ought to go to sleep?”

“I can’t sleep right now,” Draco replied and the look Pansy gave him broke him a little. “Look, I’m going to be okay, I promise. I just need to sort some things out. I need a little time, please. Let me do this on my own, and if it doesn’t work, then you can micromanage me all you want.”

Pansy stood up and grabbed her heels from the floor. “I do  _ not _ micromanage. I take charge. If I were a man, they’d call me a leader, but no, I’m a woman so I’m a bitchy nag.”

Draco had to laugh at that. “You said it, not me.”

“But you know it’s true, darling,” she replied. She pressed a kiss to his cheek as she passed. “Two months, Draco, and I expect to hear from you in the meantime.”

“Of course,” Draco said. “And thank you for-”

“Don’t thank me,” she waved him. “Not for this, Draco.” She walked into the Floo without another word. Draco stood and watched the flames die for a few moments before heading through it himself. The Manor was better for flying, he told himself. But he knew he’d end up in a library, trying to find some other reason for why his skin felt like it trying to abandon his flesh.

—

Harry hadn’t wanted to talk about what happened with Hermione and Ron. He told them he would tell them one day, but that for now he didn’t want to remember. They both understood that, but unfortunately Hermione couldn’t accept it. She  _ had _ to know what she had missed. She needed to know how she had failed her best friend.

The only thing she knew for certain was that Draco Malfoy had helped him. If Harry wasn’t going to tell her what happened, maybe Draco would.

Draco didn’t look at all surprised to see her when she stepped into his office.

“I was wondering how long it would take you,” Draco said by way of greeting. He didn't want to offer her any niceties but when he saw her condition he begrudgingly asked her to sit and got her something to drink.

“Thank you, Malfoy,” Hermione said as she took the glass of water from him. She noted the half-concealed bags framing his bloodshot eyes, and the almost imperceptible tremor of his hand with a touch of concern.

“So, what is it you want to know?” Draco said. “I can’t imagine Harry managed to tell you any of the technicalities.”

Hermione filed away the casual use of Harry, but didn’t react to it. “He didn’t tell us anything, actually, just that you’d saved him.”

The fact that Harry hadn’t told his friends anything about their time together stung more than he’d like to admit, but he wasn’t going to let Hermione know it. 

“I did,” was all he offered.

“How?”

Draco sighed and leaned back in his chair. “Do you want the long version or the short one?”

“Try the short, I’m fairly certain I can fill in the blanks,” Hermione replied.

Draco thought about what he wanted to say, and figured it didn’t matter if Hermione knew what the plan was because it hadn't worked. “Alright. It was a wraith.” He paused to give her a chance to interject about how she had known it from the start, or that it wasn’t possible, but when none came, he continued. “It wasn’t a normal one; it came from him and he was becoming it.”

“The shadow he kept talking about seeing, that was him?”

Draco nodded. “More or less. It grew from him, and it kept growing from him. It was trying to take him with it.” Draco fought to keep his eyes clear as Hermione studied him. He had to be careful with what he told her. Too much information and she would know he was leaving something out. Not enough information and she would know he was hiding something.

“Take him with it? Oh!” She set the glass down on the desk in front of her, not trusting her self to hold it. This whole time Harry had been on his own, trying to fight off a wraith, and she hadn't been able to do anything! If Draco hadn’t had helped him... She felt tears come to the back of her eyes, and she tried to blink them away. “Fuck,” she cursed under her breath. “Malfoy, I'm very emotional recently, so I’m going to need you to ignore my weeping and tell me everything.”

Draco’s lips pulled back in a horrified sort of grimace as she sniffled into a handkerchief, but he continued on. “We had to perform a purification ritual. Something strong enough to separate him from the wraith. So we obtained a purification amulet of sorts, went to Tibet, dipped him in a lake and voila! Wraith-free Harry Potter. Is that enough information for you?”

Even through her tears, Hermione was able to give him a withering look at his flippant tone and asked. “That’s all? A simple purification ritual?”

Mrs. Dougherty’s words came back to him. “Sometimes things  _ are _ simple, but I assure you this was anything but.”

Hermione remembered the whispers she had heard coming out of Italy. “You broke into the Vatican.”

There was no point in denying it. “We did.”

Hermione felt her throat tighten all over again. “You broke into the Vatican and stole St. Peter’s cross, for Harry?”

Draco looked away, uncomfortable with her tone. “We needed it.”

Hermione dabbed at her eyes. “I’m sorry, it’s just - it’s so dangerous and you did it anyway and I - ” she broke down in sobs again.

Draco watched in horror as her wailing grew louder. He couldn’t have a weeping Hermione Granger in his office. What if someone came in? He stood up and walked around to the other side of the desk and patted awkwardly at her shoulder. “There, there?”

Hermione turned her face into his stomach and smeared her tears and he assumed snot all over his gold Saint Laurent shirt. Draco grimaced as the wetness soaked into his skin.

Hermione pulled back and, when she saw the mess she’d made, said, “Oh no, your shirt!” and started crying again.

“No!” Draco cried, ready to do anything if it meant she would stop crying. “It’s perfectly okay, it’ll wash right out.”

“I know it’s dry clean only, Malfoy, I’m not stupid,” she snapped. “I’ll pay for it to be cleaned, or I’ll buy you a new one.”

Draco looked at her pregnant belly and doubted she’d have money to spare on replacing his shirt. “The dry cleaning will be fine, but please stop crying.”

“I’m sorry, it’s just once I start, it’s so hard to stop.” If Hermione wasn’t so uncomfortable all the time, she might be a little more embarrassed about breaking down in front of Draco Malfoy.

Finally, she calmed down enough for Draco to sit down again. “I know that we’ve never gotten along Malfoy, but I just want you to know how much I mean it when I say thank you. You didn’t have to do everything you did for Harry, and there are so many people that are beyond grateful that you did.”

“No need to thank me, Granger, I charged him outrageously for it. Not to mention I got to knock off life debt. So, really, he did me a favour.”

Hermione gave him a knowing smile, but he didn’t have the mental energy to process what that meant right now. She stood and waved her wand at her face to clear away the signs of crying and smoothed back her hair. “I won’t take up any more of your time,” she said as she went to the door. “Thanks again.”

“Goodbye, Granger,” he called after her, only to be polite.

She was half way out of the door when she paused and turned back to him. “You know, Harry’s not been himself recently. I mean, I know he’s adjusting and everything, but sometimes, and I know it sounds mad, but sometimes I think he misses you.”

“You’re right, that is mad,” Draco told her flatly.

Despite the tone, Hermione saw the flash of emotion in Draco’s eyes and her earlier concern raised to alarm. But she merely smiled and said, “I thought as much. Bye, Malfoy.” She gave a little wave and shut the door behind her.

—

In the following weeks since Harry's return, he had decided to move to a nicer flat, closer to Diagon Alley. He wasn’t quite ready to go back to Grimmauld, as it was too dark and there were a few too many mirrors. He had tried but his first night back had not ended well. Ron had found him huddled into ball and whimpering the next morning. He sure as Hell wasn’t going to stay in a place where everywhere he looked he remembered shadows.

He was getting better though, little by little. He was able to look at himself in the mirror on good days, and sleep for more than a few hours at time. He tried his best to keep occupied as it gave him less time to think.  So he went to visit people a lot more; he loved spending time with Ron and Hermione and helping them prepare for the baby. 

He tried to get back into broom making, but after everything it just didn’t feel  _ right.  _ He couldn’t stand that he’d wasted the last few years on something so trivial as brooms. He should have been doing something more significant with his time. He shouldn’t have taken the easy way out. He should have tried to become an Auror or Wizengamot member. He should have helped people. He should have been useful. 

So he spent most of his time trying to be useful. And it worked for a while, he could get out of his head for a few hours, but the thought that he wasn’t doing enough always wiggled its way back. Nothing was ever enough. Nothing ever felt right. 

He was more than a little worried that maybe after what had happened to him, he couldn't get any better than this. He knew the wraith had been a part of him, so what if when they expelled it, it had taken some of him with it? It wasn't the most implausible idea he'd ever heard.

But he couldn’t tell Ron and Hermione that. They so desperately wanted him to be okay, and he wanted to be okay for them. He had tried to tell Luna about it once, but she only looked at him said that he had to see what he knew. He didn’t know what that meant, because they were standing in the middle of Tesco at the time and she was a little in awe of the place, so he chalked it up to Luna being Luna.

But the whole thing was making him antsy. He knew that his friends had noticed he was restless. The way he sat on the edge of his seat, like he was held up by too tight strings. How he was constantly buzzing around, always going somewhere, doing something, never still for a moment. How he never stopped to think things through, he just did them. But after he had fallen out of a tree to retrieve a stuck prototype of a broom instead of Summoning it, even he knew it was getting out of hand.

The worst thing was Harry knew exactly what he needed, but he was too ashamed to get it. He had tried one night, when he couldn’t sleep and his blood felt like it was boiling under his skin and his hands were so shaky he couldn’t hold onto anything. He’d looked up a club that specialised in that type of thing and had actually gone there after a few nerve quelling drinks. The club was overwhelming. All he could do was watch the patrons thanking each other for slaps, pinches, and kisses alike. And after, he saw how they were relaxed, pliant, content. He wanted to be like them.

So when a man approached him, Harry followed. They had gone to a private room and Harry had dropped to his knees. But when the man had grabbed his throat, Harry sent him flying. He had Confunded him and left him on the floor.

He had to wonder if it had only worked before because it was Draco, because for some reason Harry trusted him. Any time he remembered what he had done with Draco, he felt guilt eat away at the pleasure of the memory. He knew Draco must have been indulging him, out of fear or humor, but either way Harry had cornered him.

More than anything, he wished that had been real.

—

Harry was standing in the middle of his old flat looking at a pile of books, deciding whether to sell them, donate them, or burn them, when Hermione came in. 

"Do you want these books?” Harry asked, and knew it was a dumb question. Of course she did.

She examined them. “I already have a few of these, but I’ll take them.” She sat in the lone chair. “How’s the packing going?”

“Pretty much done,” he replied. “I didn’t have much stuff to begin with.” He shrugged and started shrinking the books so she could take them home.

“I have to tell you something, Harry, and please, don’t get mad.”

Harry turned to look at her, and he could see that she’d been crying. That wasn't unusual in and of itself, but she did look more nervous than he’d seen her in a long time. He quirked a brow at her. “What did you do?”

She shook her head and bit her lip, a sure sign that the waterworks were coming. Harry braced himself for the worst as she opened her mouth to speak. 

“I went to see Malfoy.” 

Harry started. That was not what he had been expecting her to say. Hermione didn't miss the pained look that crossed Harry’s face. She decided there that the conversation needed to be more blunt. 

“I think you should go see him," she said. "I don’t know what happened between you two, and he wouldn’t tell me either, but you both seem to have unfinished business. Harry, if that’s what’s wrong, if that's what's been causing you to be so anxious lately, you need to do something about it.”

Harry sighed and began fiddling with the cover of a book. “He doesn’t want to talk to me, and he’s right to. I-I did something I shouldn’t have and, it’s just not a good idea.”

Hermione huffed and rolled her eyes. “Well, whatever it was you did to him, he doesn’t seem to be very broken up about it. He called you Harry and looked like he might cry when I said you missed him.”

Harry rounded on her, eyes blazing with incredulity. “You told him  _ what _ ?”

Hermione clapped her hand over her mouth and had the decency to look apologetic. “Sorry, Harry, but it’s true.”

“It is  _ not _ ,” Harry growled. “I don’t even know him, how can I miss him?”

“You don’t know him?” Hermione gave him a withering look.

“Fine, I barely know him. I can’t fucking miss him. We were only together a few weeks, Hermione. It was nothing.” Hermione tried to jump to her feet but it was slow going. Harry moved to help her, but she pushed him off. 

“It was not nothing,” she hissed. “He saved your life! He risked his for yours. I mean, he broke into the Vatican for you, and you think it’s nothing?”

“He had a Life Debt,” Harry protested.

“Bullshit! He could have fulfilled that by telling you what the curse was and that would have been the end of it, and you know it.” She poked him in the chest.

“I threatened him.” Harry closed his eyes and tried to block out what Hermione was saying. She was planting hope in a long-dead garden and he couldn’t handle having that grow.

“Try a little harder, Harry, you might just convince yourself!”

Harry opened his eyes. They were filled with tears. 

“Hermione, please,” he whispered.

She softened. She didn't want to hurt Harry, no matter how much she felt he was making a mistake. But she had to concede, that he might not be ready for this. 

“Oh, Harry,” she whispered. “I’m sorry, I - I know I shouldn’t, but I’m so worried about you still and I just want you to be happy.”

“I know. I just need some time, okay?”

Hermione nodded and then pulled him into a hug. For moment, he could pretend like he wasn't lying.

  
  



	12. Chapter 12

Wherever Draco was, it was dark. Draco waited for his eyes to adjust to the darkness, but when that didn’t happen, he wondered if he had even opened his eyes at all. He blinked. It was still dark.

Draco was starting to get concerned when he saw something move out of the corner of his eye. A flash of something in the dark, but it was gone now. Draco tried to move towards where he saw the thing. He put one foot in front of the other, but nothing happened. He tried again. Nothing. Panic burst in his chest and all at once his heart seized.

His lungs felt like they were filled with jelly, and his breaths came out in weak gurgles. He tried his feet again, but nothing. He reached down to see if they were still there and it was then that he realised he couldn’t bend. His body wouldn’t move. Did he have a body?

There was that flash again and Draco knew what it was. He tried to call out to it. He shouted until his throat was raw and he was sure it was bleeding. Over and over and over he called out, but there was no sound. There was no movement again. There was nothing, only darkness and Draco shouting out a plea no one would ever hear. He would never get out of here. He could yell until his lungs collapsed, try to move until his limbs rotted and fell off, and still he’d be stuck here, screaming the same thing over and over and - 

“Draco!”

Draco’s wand was in his hand and shoved into a soft column of flesh before he realised he could still hear the screaming.

“Draco!”

The screaming stopped and Draco blinked. His throat burned and his eyes stung and his face was wet. He blinked several times and his vision cleared. The first thing he saw was Harry Potter's eyes. He remembered the flash and scrambled back, flinging his wand across the room. 

“Draco?” Harry tried, softer this time.

“What are you doing here?” Draco tried to sound angry, but his voice was raw and broken. He picked up an empty water glass and scowled into it. 

Harry conjured water into the glass with a wave of his hand before he sat back on the bed and sighed. “Zabini was right.”

“Blaise?” Draco croaked after draining the glass. “What the bloody hell does he have to do with you breaking and entering into my home?”

“He came to see me,” Harry replied.

Blaise hadn’t meant to let Harry in on the secret when he had come to collect payment. Harry was sure that Blaise wasn’t even aware he said something he shouldn’t have. But when Blaise left, and Harry could piece together what had happened, his whole world tilted. All the lies and excuses he had told himself about why he shouldn't see Draco were no longer good enough.

“He had a few choice words to say about…this.” Harry waved a hand between them.

“There is no this,” Draco responded decisively.

“Draco,” Harry sighed.

“No.” Draco threw the covers off and got out of bed. “There’s no this. There’s nothing. There’s  _ nothing _ , Potter.”

Harry gave him a hard look. “So you’re doing just fine.”

“Absolutely,” Draco lied.

“Well, that’s not what I heard.”

“You shouldn’t listen to gossip,” Draco mocked, moving towards his wardrobe.

“You want to know what I heard?”

“Not in particular, but I suppose you're going to tell me anyway." 

Harry ignored him. “I heard that you did something incredibly stupid.” He paused but Draco made no sign of having heard him. “I heard that you saved my life.”

“You’re right, that was incredibly stupid of me.” Draco rummaged through the wardrobe, unseeing.

Harry stood up and walked over to stand behind Draco. Draco could feel Harry at his back, but refused to turn around. He refused to let Harry see that he was  _ right _ .

Harry watched Draco’s shoulders tense up and felt his heart clench. “Draco.”

Draco whipped around to face Harry, eyes blazing. “Don’t.”

“Why did you do it?”

“It doesn’t matter.”

“It matters to me!” 

“I don’t care!” Draco began to pace. “I just did it, okay? It doesn’t matter why, the point is I did, isn’t that enough? And you! Can’t you just live with that?” Draco threw his arms out in frustration. 

“You didn’t have the right!” Harry burst out. This was not going the way he had planned. 

Draco jerked to a halt. “I didn’t have the  _ right? _ I didn’t have the right to save your life?” Draco felt very far away, as if he were floating and watching the scene unfold from the ceiling. “That’s what you paid me to do!”

“No!” Harry took a step forward. “I paid you to break the curse! God, Draco, do you realise what could have happened to you? And for what?”

“No, I guess I had never thought about the consequences of my actions when I decided to risk my eternal damnation to save your life!” Draco stepped closer to Harry and glowered in his face. “It was  _ my _ decision and I’m well aware it was a fucking stupid one, so whatever it is you have to say about it, you can just fucking shove it up your arse.” 

All at once Harry was very tired. He hadn’t come here to argue, but once again, he couldn’t keep his mouth shut around Draco. 

“Draco, I didn’t mean it like that.”

Draco took a step back and crossed his arms. “Oh, and how else could you have meant it?” 

“I just meant that after everything, after everyone that has been hurt by the curse, I can’t stand how much it hurt you. You didn’t deserve that.” 

Draco let out a weary sigh. “I see. So you’re here because you feel guilty. Of course, that’s why you’re here. You’re physically incapable of accepting help without going on a crusade.”

“That’s not why I’m here.” 

Draco snorted. “Then why?”

Harry looked at him for a very long time. He searched Draco’s face, asking a question he already knew the answer to. This was the hardest part. If he was wrong, then he could well be making a very embarrassing and potential painful mistake. But if he was right… Harry summoned all his Gryffindor courage and a little bit of recklessness and without breaking eye contact, moved to his knees.

Draco’s shoulder slumped, and he let out a bitter laugh. “That’s it, is it? You still need it?”

“I think we both do,” Harry said in a steady voice.

“This won’t fix it.” Draco’s reply was brittle. 

“I don’t expect it to. It’s going to take a lot of time and honest conversations, and probably loads of therapy, but you don’t have to do it alone.  _ We _ don’t have to do this alone. But this? This is a start.” Harry paused, and he saw Draco was still looking at him, doubt clear in his eyes. He searched for the right words to help Draco see that this was what they both needed. What they both wanted. “Tell me no, Draco, and I’ll go. Tell me I’m wrong, and I’ll leave you alone for good. But if you can’t honestly tell me that…”

“Then what?” Draco breathed.

“Then I’ll stay.”

Draco didn’t move. Harry was looking up at Draco with a such an open expression that it made Draco want to hide. Harry had so much confidence in him, and Draco didn’t deserve it. Harry shouldn’t be here, shouldn’t want him, shouldn’t trust him. But he  _ did _ .

Harry was starting to get scared. Draco had been looking at him for far too long, and he couldn’t tell what he was thinking at all. He was just about to stand up and leave, go drown his sorrows in a bottle of bottom-shelf whiskey and will himself to sleep, when Draco took a step forward. Relief filled every crevice of his body.

When Draco’s hand came up to cradle his face, Harry's eyes slipped shut of their own accord and Draco’s throat constricted at the sight.

“Are you going to be good for me?” Draco whispered.

Harry opened his eyes and saw the wonder in Draco’s face and knew it was a reflection of his own.

“Yes _. _ ”

“Good.” Draco coaxed Harry to his feet. Harry’s confusion was clear, but he didn’t argue. “Take off your clothes, and wait on the bed,” Draco instructed, before he left the room. 

Harry did as he was told and waited on the edge of the bed, fiddling with his fingers. Draco came back naked, holding a towel and a small bottle of lube. He took in the tense set of Harry’s shoulders and the fidgeting of his hands, and frowned. 

“Relax,” Draco told him. 

Harry gave a jerky nod and willed himself to calm down. He had been so sure of himself when he walked in here; scared, but sure. But now sitting on this bed naked and Draco standing over him, he felt more exposed than when he was on knees. 

“Lie back, head up by the pillows.” Harry scrambled to comply and Draco let out a little chuckle before moving to stand at the end of the bed. He took a moment to appreciate the sight of Harry stretched out before him, a little embarrassed, but willing. “I need you to tell me if I do something you don’t like. Can you do that?” 

“Yeah, I can do that.” Harry had looked into the idea of safe words after the disaster at the club. “If I need you to slow down, I’ll say yellow, and red for a full stop.”

Draco raised a brow. “Someone’s done their research.” 

Harry’s eyes flicked away and he said, “I had an unpleasant experience.”

“What happened?”

“I’d rather not talk about it.” 

“Harry,” Draco’s voice brought Harry’s attention to him. “I need to know what you don’t like just as much as what you do.” This was never going to work if they couldn’t communicate. 

“He grabbed me round the throat, and I remembered-” Harry sucked in a hard breath. He could feel it now, the hand around his throat, cutting off his air; it felt just like when he’d been in the water, “when I was drowning.” 

Draco felt an unexpected surge of possessiveness at the admission, followed by anger that Harry hadn’t been treated right. His previous plans for how this was going to go went out the window as a new idea began to take hold. He wanted to show Harry that this could go beyond just doing as he was told, that it could be so much more than him simply submitting. 

Draco moved to the bed and planted himself at Harry’s feet. “Do you trust me?” Draco asked. 

Harry’s gaze flicked back to Draco. “Yes.” And it was true.

“Then let me take care of you.” 

“But, I thought-” Harry began to protest, but Draco cut him off. 

“I thought you were going to be good.”

“I am,” Harry said quickly. “But how?”

“You just have to listen. You can do that, can’t you, Harry?” Draco smiled. 

Harry relaxed a little, back on familiar ground. “Yeah, I can.”

“Good.” Draco picked up Harry’s foot and kissed the arch of it. “Eyes on me.” Harry hadn’t even realised his eyes had fallen shut. Draco picked up the other foot and repeated the action. He then moved to place a kiss on each of Harry’s knees, thighs, hips, and up and up until he was hovering over his lips. 

“Doing okay?” Draco asked. 

Harry didn’t think he’d ever been harder in his life, and Draco had barely even touched him. He was embarrassingly breathless when he replied, “Yeah, fine.”

“Tell me what you want.” 

It was hard to think with Draco so close, so Harry said the first thing that came to mind. “Kiss me?” 

Draco chuckled. “Not what I meant, but of course.” 

Draco closed the space between them and kissed him. It was chaste at first, just a soft touch of lips. But then Harry whimpered and Draco pulled on his bottom lip and sucked it into his mouth. Harry arched, his hands coming to thread through Draco’s hair and pulling him closer. When they finally broke apart, they were both a little dazed. 

“Well, as far as first kisses go, that wasn’t the worst,” Draco said, and Harry laughed. It broke the atmosphere a bit, but neither of them minded. Draco leaned down and kissed Harry again. This time when they parted, Draco was back to business. 

“Put your hands on the headboard for me. Don’t touch unless I say so, okay?” 

“Okay.” Harry extracted his hands from Draco’s hair and gripped the metal bar on the headboard. 

Draco moved down Harry’s body and spread Harry’s legs. “It’s going to be cold,” was all the warning he got before Draco cast a cleansing and protection charm. Harry stiffened at the sensation for a moment. 

Draco had been between his legs for a few long moments now and, other than casting the charms, he hadn’t done anything. He was just staring at Harry’s hole. It was making Harry hot all over and a little antsy. 

“Draco.”

Draco put his hands on Harry’s hips to stop him from wriggling and shushed him. Harry stopped moving and waited with bated breath for Draco to do  _ something _ . Finally he felt hot breath ghost over his hole, followed by the long, slow swipe of Draco’s tongue. 

Harry shifted his hips to get closer, but Draco pulled away. “Don’t move, Harry, and don’t come until I say so.” Harry stilled and Draco ducked his head down and licked again. Harry moaned, but willed himself not to move. He was going to be good for Draco. 

Draco gave him a few more teasing licks before he swirled his tongue around the rim and plunged it inside. Harry gasped and Draco could feel Harry straining with the effort of keeping still. Harry was doing so well and Draco wanted to reward him. He fucked him with his tongue until Harry was almost crying. When Harry was good and loose, Draco let a finger slip in beside his tongue. 

Harry yelped when the finger found his prostate. Draco withdrew his tongue and nuzzled at Harry’s balls, still stroking at his spot. 

“Draco, please,” he whimpered. “Please, I’ve been good.” 

“You have.” Draco pressed a kiss to the inside of his thigh. “You’ve been so good for me, Harry.” Harry keened at the praise. Draco began to mouth at the side of Harry’s dick. “You want to come?”

“Please.” 

“Okay, come when you’re ready. Move if you need to.” Without warning, Draco swallowed Harry’s dick to the hilt. 

Harry screamed and arched off the bed as he came. Draco sucked him through it all the while he never let up on his prostate. Harry’s vision whited out and he was trembling with the force of his aftershocks, which sent little spurts of come down Draco’s throat. When he was finally finished, Draco pulled off, but didn’t move his finger.  

“So perfect,” Draco murmured, kissing his hip. “You did so well.” 

“Really?” Harry’s eyes were a bit unfocused and he was still hanging onto the headboard, but he looked pleased. 

“You were amazing.”

Harry gave him a goofy smile, and Draco finally moved his hand from Harry and crawled up to kiss him. “Can you fuck me?”

Draco gave him a wry smile. “I thought I just did.” He took Harry’s hands from the headboard and laid them down. 

“No, I know. I mean, can you do it with your cock? Please?” 

Draco groaned. Harry using  _ please _ to ask for his cock was more than he could handle. But he wouldn’t deny Harry this. 

“You’re sure?”

Harry nodded. “Please.” 

Draco grabbed the lube from the bedside table. Even though Harry was pretty loose already, he didn’t want to take any chances of hurting him or causing him to tense up. He looked so good lying there, relaxed and pliant and  _ wanting _ . 

He was loose enough for Draco to press two fingers in at once, but even so he did that slowly. When they were both in, Harry’s cock gave an interested twitch, but nothing more. Draco spread his fingers and Harry was open enough for a third finger in no time. Draco kept up a litany of praise as he worked. All the while Harry was smiling down at Draco and making contented little noises.

Draco had been so focused on trying to make Harry feel good that he had all but forgotten his own dick. But now, looking up at a satiated Harry with three fingers in him, his arousal hit him with the force of a train. He wasn’t even sure if he was going to make it all the way inside of Harry before he came. 

“Ready?” His voice was as hoarse as if he’d been shouting. Instead of replying, Harry wrapped his legs around Draco’s hips and urged him forward. 

Even with all the prep, Harry was still tight as a vice when Draco slipped in. He had to steady himself when he was fully sheathed, because he was dangerously close to coming. “Harry,” he moaned. “You feel so good. You’re so good.” 

Harry gave his hips a little roll and shuddered. He was a little sensitive, and he wasn’t going to come again, but it felt good. “Aren’t you going to take care of me?” Harry asked when Draco had been still too long. 

“Merlin,” Draco breathed. “Yeah, I’m going to take care of you.” 

Draco saw no point in trying to drag it out, but he was still conscious of Harry becoming overstimulated. He kept his thrusts gentle, but the pace was quick. 

Harry was whimpering as Draco fucked him, the sharpness of the pleasure tingled his nerves, and he wasn’t sure if he wanted to get away or get closer. He knew Draco was close, as his pace was starting to falter and his thrusts becoming a little rougher. “Come in me,” Harry panted, reaching up to pull at Draco’s shoulders. “I want it.” 

Draco gave a shout that was half Harry’s name, thrust once more, and was coming. He slumped forward, resting his head on Harry’s chest, trying to breathe. He kissed his sternum once before pulling out and rolling off to the side. 

Draco picked up the towel he had brought in earlier and spelled it wet. He gently cleaned them both off before falling back next to Harry. 

Harry rolled over to face him. “Do you remember when Hermione came to see you?” Draco hmm’d and Harry continued. “She was right, you know.” 

Draco cracked an eye open and looked at him. “Right about what?”

“I missed you,” Harry admitted. “I know it’s stupid because we didn’t spend that much time together, but I kept waking up, expecting you to be there, and you weren’t.” 

Draco turned his head to fully face him. “It’s only a little stupid.” 

Harry glared. “She said you missed me, too.” 

“How could she have possibly know that?”  

“Brightest witch of her age.” Harry grinned. 

“Well, I guess she wasn’t  _ wrong _ ,” Draco grumbled, and Harry laughed. 

They were quiet for a long time and Draco had almost fallen asleep when Harry spoke again.

“Draco?”

“What?”

“Let’s go somewhere.” 

“Wherever you like, Harry.” 

—

Wherever they were, it was bright.

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you've made it this far I want to thank you from the bottom of my heart. If you enjoyed this story, or at least the idea of this story, please check out [Unintended](https://archiveofourown.org/works/14055087) by siriuslysnuffles which was written off of the same prompt. 
> 
> You can find me on [tumblr](https://bangyababy.tumblr.com)


End file.
